Shades of Grey
by Kirabaros
Summary: Does everything have to be solved with men dying? Maybe... maybe not. It is the shades of grey that truly test the character of a person and how they end up becoming. It is a lesson that Altair learns from a childhood friend as he struggles to complete his mission killing the nine for Al Mualim. Selma Al-Fakir learns that sometimes things can be black and white.
1. Chapter 1

**Shades of Grey**

**Prologue**

_1176_

The citadel of Masyaf was one of the largest ever seen. For the little standing in the gardens of that great edifice, it was larger than anything she had seen outside her home. It wasn't much of a comparison since it was her first trip to the citadel. It was to be the first of a long line of visits to the citadel of her father's longtime friends.

Her robes flapped in the breeze as she gazed upwards. Her dark hair was drawn back into a single braid that trailed down the middle of her back. The shorter locks fell out of the braid and were blowing with the breeze. Her eyes that were an unusual shade, red brown, took in every detail they sought out of the building she had grown to love. She wanted to embed the image in her memory.

While she was looking up, she didn't seem to see the shadow that glided over the grass of the gardens making its way towards her. In fact she didn't know that she wasn't alone until she was grabbed from behind. She let out a squeal but also retaliated with her feet and her elbows. Her wriggling caused her and her captor to fall to the ground and they burst out laughing.

"You have sharp talons Little Falcon," her attacker said as he propped himself up on his forearms. His honey colored eyes looked at her as he smiled and added, "You almost had me, Selma."

Selma turned her head towards her companion, preferring to remain lying on her back on the grass. She replied, "I did see you. I just let you catch me." She lifted her head to peer at him and asked, "Unless you wanted me to see you Altair?"

Altair looked at Selma. At ten years old she was already starting to turn into the beauty she was going to become as a woman. She also was intelligent and very perceptive of things around her. He had never met anyone like her in Masyaf until she arrived two months ago with her father. His father introduced him to her and she asked if he liked to ride horses and of course he said that he did.

They had become fast friends. They went almost everywhere together where it was permitted. One was not usually seen without the other. He showed her everything about the citadel; all the secrets that he had discovered he had shown her. He even started teaching her the things he had been learning and she taught him a few things. It was a good two months.

Selma blinked at Altair, her red brown eyes flickering like those of a falcon, hence the pet name he bestowed upon her the first day they met. He took in her gaze as he replied, "I wanted you to see me because your father is looking for you and I said I would find you. The soldiers are at the gate."

Selma sighed, not because her father wanted her but because of the trouble that was currently plaguing Masyaf. Looking up at the clear blue sky she asked, "Why are they attacking us Altair?"

At eleven years old, Altair never expected to be deferred to as someone who could answer such a question with some modicum of knowledge. He shrugged his shoulders and replied, "I don't know Little Falcon."

Selma was silent for a moment as she pondered on her back. Then she sat up quickly and crossed her legs like she was sitting down at the feet of one of the masters to receive instruct with her legs crossed. She took a breath and recited, "We are to know but we do not know."

"Everything is permitted. Nothing is true," Altair replied as he took in her thoughtful expression. Since they met, he had never once condemned her intelligence especially when it was clear she had thought long and hard about things. He continued, "I don't know Little Falcon but I know your father wants you come. Father is to take you somewhere safe." He stood up and offered her a hand up.

Selma looked at the proffered hand and then up at Altair. She reached for his hand and allowed him to help her to her feet. She asked, "What about you?"

"I will do what I am told," Altair replied solemnly as he beckoned her to follow him. He looked away so she wouldn't see his expression. "The Mentor's wishes must be obeyed."

Selma had heard that before. Her father was the master of his order and a similar phrase had been said of him when she questioned one of his orders. His word was command. She knew that it was not worth it to protest so she remained silent on that and followed Altair through the gardens and through the citadel. After a time she couldn't help but say, "I wish you were going with me."

Altair wanted to go. If anything it was to make sure she was safe from everything that could hurt her. "I would protect you Little Falcon," he replied with a quiet conviction. He had been her protector from the other initiates that attempted to torment her. Not everyone was willing to let a woman in to see the secrets of Masyaf. He beckoned with his hand, "Come."

Selma replied quietly, "Yes Altair," as she put her hand into his.

They managed to make it to where Altair was supposed to bring her when shouts drew their attention. They turned when they heard the name Umar Ibn-La' Ahad. They both stopped and looked in the direction of the noise that followed. Selma frowned in confusion, wondering what was going on. She didn't realize that Altair had pulled her scarf up and put it over her head in an attempt to hide her face but it was done with a distracted air.

For once, Altair disobeyed and headed in the direction of the shouting after making sure Selma's head was properly covered. His father's name had been called and he aimed to know why. He forgot that Selma would naturally follow and she did keeping his tall figure in her sight. He parted the way through the crowd, pushing his way through. He pushed through just in time for the pair of them to see his father heading towards the wicker gate.

Selma pushed through behind Altair and managed to squeeze around one of the men to see what was going on. She could see soldiers on the other side of the gate. They looked fierce with swords and weapons and their leader looked… she didn't like it. It was ugly. She didn't like him either she decided in her ten year old manner. She also saw a man from Altair's order being held by the soldiers. He was cut, bleeding and he looked broken. What was going on?

"Father?"

Selma turned to see Altair looking at the retreating form of Umar, his father. She watched as the man paused at the sound of his son's voice. She opened her mouth to say something but no sound came out. She looked around and wondered why none of the others were doing anything. What had Umar done that he was going out there?

Umar had been their host during their stay. He had met her and her father when they arrived and gave them the tour of the village and the citadel. She liked the man who was very formal with her father and he didn't show her contempt because she was a girl that was being given the privilege to be privy to the knowledge that was only granted to men. He had introduced his son to her and encouraged their relationship despite what others said.

Selma couldn't believe that Umar was certainly walking towards his doom. She heard Altair's continued call for his father as she watched the man go through the gate. Her mouth was open but no sound was coming out. It was like she was being prevented from speaking. She just couldn't and all she could do was watch.

She watched as the other man that belonged to Altair's order was shoved through the gate to their side and Umar was grabbed roughly by the soldiers and yanked towards… She took a quick look at the man that had been shoved through. She saw him give a sorrowful look at Altair and her friend turned to look towards the gate and called for his father. She looked up to see her father and the Mentor of the order looking at everything going on. Her father didn't see her but she could tell that he was looking for her since Altair was making himself be known calling for his father. Her eyes were wide open as she saw the events unfold.

They were wide eyed when the soldiers stretched Umar over a block. It was clear what they were going to do. She could hear Altair calling for his father, the tone indicating that he knew what was going to happen but he couldn't understand why. She glanced to see that she was right next to him after she felt his robes brush against her. She had been forgotten.

Instinctively, she reached out and grasped the sleeve of his robes. She held on silently as she watched Umar being prepped and she saw the sword gleaming. The next thing she knew she felt Altair's arms wrapping around her and trying to turn her away as she saw the glint of the blade from the sun. She wrapped her arm around Altair's arm to hold on as she saw the sword being raised. Her mouth was opened in a silent gasp.

She watched as the blade swung down with a sickening thud. She heard Altair calling out to his father and felt her arms pulling on his arms as if to hold him from running out there. A slight gasp left her mouth as she held on. It was the only sound came out as it hit what she had just seen. Umar Ibn-La' Ahad was dead and she had witnessed it with her own eyes…

* * *

**A/N:** Here I go again only this time with Assassin's Creed. Reviews are welcome and stay tuned for the next time on Shades of Grey...


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 1**

Basima looked warily around at the land as she urged her horse forward while leading the line of camels that were loaded with trade goods. She followed her father and tried not to show fear but it was difficult since this was one of the more dangerous routes and they were a target… a nice big one. There were many dangers on the road to Damascus but being a merchant trader… it seemed to be the most hazardous of occupations. It was easy if you could afford reputable guards but Basima and her father couldn't afford that and they could not afford to not go to Damas.

Basima was the only child of her parents, the Nassar family. Her father had wanted a son but got a daughter to raise on his own since her mother died of fever two days after giving birth to her. He never blamed her for that but it was clear that he loved her mother dearly. He didn't begrudge her either in terms of an education. He taught her the merchant trade since she was very intelligent and could haggle with the best of them. He even taught her the basics of self-defense even though she disliked anything that was related to sword fighting though she was pretty good with a blade. She was very much like the delicate flower that men wanted but the big turn off was that she was outspoken at times.

The trip to Damascus would set them up for a better future. Her father was even entertaining the possibility of staying in that city and making his trade in the suqs that littered the various districts. His reasoning was because trade wasn't doing so well in their village; they were small fry compared to a couple of bigger merchants and there was the increase of banditry with the oncoming of the crusades and the war for the Holy Land. The Christian dogs claimed that it was theirs while the Muslims said different but that didn't really bother Basima all that much since she had little to no interest in politics. She was aware of it though since it did affect their livelihood.

The bandits were what made Basima nervous. Her and her father had very valuable trade goods that they had acquired as well as substantial money. It was essentially all that they had. She prayed to Allah that they would have a safe journey; that he would guide them through the paths that were traversed by thieves. It was not to be so.

She knew who they were the moment they showed their faces. It was the group of bandits that the stories had been told of them robbing the merchant caravans. They were part of the merchant king Tamir's group. They robbed the caravans and stole the good for Tamir who sold them at exorbitant prices for people in desperate need and they left the witnesses for dead. If there were women present then… It was something that Basima didn't want to think about but she had a very good idea of what would happen.

They charged their group and pulled up alongside her and her father. Basima watched as her father pulled his blade and start to fight. She had to as well considering the scum they were and she was not dressed like a man but wearing hijab as was proper. She pulled out her sword and kicked her horse to urge the beast to follow. She managed to get in a few swipes but they were hardly effective. She was pulled from her horse kicking and screaming. Her father she heard cursing them out. They were in trouble.

The leader was grinning as he rode up on his horse while Basima and her father were brought to him. He grinned as they were shoved to the ground and Basima landed with a grunt, the ends of her scarf touching the desert sands. He dismounted and went to stand in front of them after looking over the lead camel and the goods that were packed on its back. He then kneeled to inspect Basima, reaching out and touching her face. He took pleasure in that she was trembling when he touched her.

"Don't you touch her!"

Basima gasped a small sob when the leader gave her father a hard backhand across the face. She watched as the leader grabbed her father's tunic and said, "I'll do what I like when I like… and she will fetch a mighty fine price to some noble looking for an unspoiled slave."

"Over my dead body."

Basima didn't make a sound. She had gotten the warning look from her father that she was to behave like the demure little girl. She wondered what good that would do now since they had seen her pull out a sword and start to fight. She bit back the sobs that were threatening to come forth and prayed that nothing horrible would come of this.

"Alright then," the leader said with a mocking nod. He took out his sword and struck with a quick movement.

Basima couldn't help but scream out loud when she saw her father run through with the blade. She struggled against her captors until she was grabbed hard by the chin by the leader and she let out a whimper. She was told to shut up or he would kill her after having his way with her. She could see the intent in his eyes and felt her body tremble in fear and she struggled when he pulled on her dress.

He didn't get any further than that for he stumbled forward with a stunned look on his face. Basima moved to let him fall and gasped silently at the arrow protruding from his back. She heard the shouts of the bandits and looked around. She saw more fall from arrows as they shouted trying to figure out where they were coming from. She looked around and spotted a lone figure in the distance and holding a bow.

The robes were a dark grey and they flapped as the breeze of the day blew through. They revealed equally grey trousers and black boots. A crimson sash was tied around the waist and the torso held weaponry and leather protective wear. A sword hung at the figure's side and the hood was pulled low to reveal only the mouth. The rest of the face was hidden but it was clear that the person could see outward.

Basima watched as her rescuer continued to shoot their bow while advancing towards the site. When the distance was closed, out came the sword. Basima watched as she scuttled to be by her father. She had managed to pick up her own sword just in case but her rescuer seemed to have things well under control as they danced with the remaining bandits until all but one was lying on the ground. The remaining one was trying to get away on the leader's horse but the rescuer didn't seem perturbed by it as they put away the sword and brought back up the bow and arrow. Basima couldn't help but say, "It's too far."

The rescuer said nothing but drew back after notching the arrow. With careful aim the arrow was released and it flew through the air. It struck the bandit forcing him to fall off the horse. Basima thought he was dead but was surprised when the body moved. He was still alive!

Basima was staring at the distance when her hands were released. She flew to her father but she knew he was dead. She couldn't help but call out to him, "Abba."

Basima realized she was being stared at and looked up to see the hooded rescuer looking down at her. She couldn't see the face but the posture looked like one of aggression. She gasped a little and was prepared to defend herself. If this person was another bandit, she would let them take everything. What was the point to this now?

It was a daunting few minutes until the hooded figure turned in the direction of the still alive bandit and walked in towards them. Basima felt her jaw open in surprise and closed it as she watched her rescuer kneel beside the downed bandit. It appeared that they were conversing after her rescuer broke the shaft of the arrow. That had to be painful but Basima didn't care. The dog killed her father so she had no sympathy for them as she cradled her father's head.

The conversation didn't last long. Basima didn't make a sound as she watched her rescuer end the bandit's life with a blade that had been hidden previously. She did blink when the hooded rescuer reached out and closed the eyes of the bandit and appeared to be saying something to them. She watched as her rescuer stood and walked back over towards her and came to a stop. She had to blink when she heard, "Gather your horses and camels and their horses. I will see to him."

Basima felt compelled to obey even though she normally would have protested. The voice was low but it had authority to it and she went to do her rescuer's bidding while the stranger began to wrap up her father's body. She gathered up the horses, hers, her father's and the bandits and checked the camels and brought them over and was doubly surprised when the stranger lifted her father up on his horse and secured him saying, "So he receives proper burial."

Basima was quiet but nodded as she checked everything herself. She almost jumped when she heard a high pitched whistle. She turned to see a black horse trotting over the hill like it was going for a stroll. It came to a stop near the stranger giving a slight toss of its head and a whinny. Basima watched as her rescuer stroked the animal's nose before climbing onto its back with a grace that Basima envied and turned the horse's head in the direction they wanted to go and started forward.

Basima couldn't explain it but she got the feeling that she was supposed to follow and climbed onto her horse and taking the lead, she urged her 'caravan' to follow the stranger. She kept her distance behind the stranger and maintained a watchful eye. They were not going in the direction of Damascus but somewhere else. She wanted to ask but remained silent. She was in this stranger's debt and… she would accept whatever payment was demanded of her.

She was rewarded for her silence when their party came upon a watch tower with a lone guard keeping an eye out. The guard was wearing similar robes to what her rescuer was wearing but the sash was different and he gave a head bow to the stranger. They passed through the gate without much trouble and Basima allowed herself to look around at the village that was teeming with life. She blinked in surprise.

It increased when they were swarmed by villagers. Some were greeting the stranger with cheer and affection at their safe return. Some were helping Basima with her and her things. She thought it best to follow the lead since the people were not out to hurt her it seemed. She didn't know that the company she had been keeping warranted the attention and the commands would be instantly obeyed. She was nervous about letting them take her father's body but relaxed when she noticed the stranger didn't seem too worried by it. Basima looked at the stranger who was surveying everything and asked, "What am I to do?"

Basima's rescuer moved their head to glance in her direction. The low voice spoke, "You will be taken care of. You will continue onto Damascus." The owner then turned and started walking away from the crowd with a silent gait that gently parted the crowd and allowed them to be swallowed by it.

Basima looked for the stranger but couldn't see them. She was directed to follow an elderly woman and looked around. She asked, "And I in some sort of debt?"

"Your life has been safeguarded. It is only fair that you return it," the woman replied. She gestured at the village, "We are protected and hence we provide service."

Basima nodded as she was shown a place to rest. She managed to ask, "Who was it that brought me here?"

The elderly woman was moving about the room when she paused and looked at Basima. She replied, "A Master Librarian and Arbiter. Some say that one learned the ways of the Assassins."

"Assassins?" Basima wondered what world she had stumbled into.

"Only stories child. When you are ready I will take you to whom you are to speak to."

Basima looked around. She looked out the window of the room and saw a massive citadel. It looked like a guard that protected the village below it. She had heard of stories about an order that was called upon to sit in judgment; various governors sought them out and they were also librarians. They collected knowledge and it was said that they had a vast library. Did they…? "Where am I?"

"Al-Nasrah, the citadel of the Arbiters."

* * *

The stables smelled of the horses, hay and donkeys that were kept. There was also the faint smell of camels as well and all were busy with their meals. They paid little to no attention to the woman that was petting the falcon that was sitting on the stall wall of one of the older donkeys and chirping and occasionally giving pecks of affection to the woman as she stroked the soft feathers. It was an atmosphere of contentment for all that were there.

"I heard we have a new set of eyes heading to Damascus."

The woman didn't look up but continued to pet the falcon. Her red brown eyes blinked as she ran the back of her first finger on the chest of the bird. She replied, "She is capable. Not one to get dirty but capable."

The elder man that had spoken when he entered the stables looked at the woman with a tolerant expression. "You were supposed to deliver the tome to Aouda in Damas."

"I did. I just happened to see Tamir's bandits on my return," the woman countered. She paused in her petting and turned to look at her visitor.

"You tracked them specifically when you were not given leave."

The woman stood up, her robes falling into place. The only thing that wasn't in place was the hood for it was lowered revealing her true side since the robes hid her figure. She gave a firm look and replied, "And how long were we going to wait until we acted, Father? Until more innocents die?" She paused a moment to look way and then added, "I thought we were Arbiters." She gave her father a questioning and respectful look.

Ahmed Al-Fakir looked at his daughter now in her twenty-fifth year and already a Master Librarian and Arbiter, the former which usually took a lifetime to achieve and the latter granted because she had exercised wisdom in her judgment and had managed to prevent nations from warring. She made him proud but he was concerned. Normally she would have been married by now and the fact that she was still unwed was disconcerting to some. Looking at her he replied, "We _are_ Arbiters, habibiti. We do have an obligation to dispense justice but we use knowledge to do that. Knowledge guides our hand for we are scholars… seekers of truth."

"Yes Father, but a scholar can be killed just the same upon a blade."

"You modified your mother's argument for requesting your training," Ahmed replied with a slight smile on his face. "Very clever my daughter."

"The same principle."

"Which is why I let your training go on as long as it did," Ahmed replied, "But it is your words and desire to have the least amount of bloodshed that has earned our rank as it were."

"Father, I completed my mission and I did chance upon Tamir's men. They killed her father."

Ahmed sighed as he watched his daughter looked away thoughtfully and knew she was thinking of that day fifteen years ago. She had never forgotten and it seemed to be a motivation of sorts… not that he blamed her. "Father and child?"

"Yes, Father."

Ahmed nodded at that. His supposition was correct. "That was a long time ago my daughter."

"For one, yes. But a similar one occurring with someone else."

Ahmed watched his daughter as she leaned over to pet the donkey whose stall her falcon was sitting on. The elderly beast made a humming sound and he recalled why that particular beast was there. The story still made him laugh but also reflected her ability to reason and use her knowledge.

"One lived and revealed that Tamir is in Damascus and has been causing problems for a few of the merchants. It is recommended that word should be sent to our brother order."

Ahmed was well aware of that piece of information. If anything his daughter was very prompt in delivering her information. The old librarian in the archives spoke of as much when she was apprenticed to him for a time. She was thorough and didn't issue an opinion until she was certain it was warranted. It was why he was a bit reluctant to give her the newest assignment that was agreed upon by the council and backed by him. It was unprecedented but changes had been made and with the crusades raging in the Holy Land…

"Our new eyes can deliver the message."

"That has been discussed but it is unnecessary for the council and I have reached a decision," Ahmed said. He watched as his daughter straightened up apparently recognizing that she was going to be asked to do something. "The council is in agreement as am I that we are Arbiters but also seekers of knowledge."

"I meant no disrespect Father," the woman said as she lowered her head contritely and prepared for punishment.

"The crusades have wrought change, Daughter," Ahmed countered as he raised his daughter's head by using his forefinger to lift her chin. She was hardly subservient and she used that as an advantage when she took to training the guard of the citadel and the few scholars that wished to learn. "We can no longer ignore it and our role is changing. You have shown this with your past assignments. Tamir has long been a blemish with his involvement in trying to poison the citizens of Acre and other activities but it is clear that he is not alone in this."

"I have noticed as well."

Ahmed nodded, "It has been decided that the Arbiters will seek out him out, learn what he knows and then cast judgment."

"Isn't that more along what our brother order does?"

Ahmed looked at his daughter who was giving him a surprised look. He replied, "Tamir has been our problem since the beginning and we have chosen to give those that want to resist the means of striking back. However it seems that there are things that must be dealt with." He paused and looked at his daughter and said, "I am telling you this because it is the council's decision that you be the one to carry this out."

"Me?"

"Yes. Seek knowledge and deliver justice," Ahmed replied with a nod. "It is unusual but you are the first to expand upon our role…"

"I understand Father. I will head to Damas," she replied.

Ahmed put his hands on his daughter's shoulders. He looked at her knowing that he was sending her into a realm that she was formally given sanction to perform in. He sighed and said, "You are like your mother Selma Al-Fakir. She saw that we would need to change. Go with Allah."

His daughter nodded and proceeded to prepare to leave. He almost had to chuckle when she lifted her bird onto her hand and it perched on her shoulder. He watched as she rode out to lead this change of times for their order.

* * *

**A/N:** And we are fifteen years later and looks like Selma is all grown up. We'll see where it goes next time on Shades of Grey...


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 2**

Damascus. Selma rarely saw the large cities that were bustling of trade unless she had duties that brought her to one. Mostly she stayed with the villages near Al-Nasrah. As she looked down at the entrance to the city, she gave a wry smile as she recalled a memory where she was part of an entourage of one Farid Ibn Al-Hara, a noble of sorts, possibly a prince or something like that. She didn't quite remember since that didn't interest her but she had been interested in the death threat that had been set against him.

Farid was a learned man and he believed that peace could be achieved between the Muslims and the Christians. He was part of the delegation that was to design possible peace treaties and end the crusades. Her role in this was that of a bodyguard, an odd position if her face had been revealed. However, she had gone in with her full robes and that part was moot to the others. She was also a scholar though and she couldn't resist drinking in his ideas. It surprised him greatly when he learned of her true identity and that she could follow what he was trying to do.

He was a kind and generous man in that he would engage her in conversations and treated her as an equal. He sought her opinion on his workings for peace and listened. In the end, he offered her marriage but she refused citing duty to the order as her reason. He respected her decision and instead gave her a medallion with his family name woven in fancy Arabic. It was as good as a signet ring and signified her acceptance by him and his family. It especially helped when she saved his life from assassination by a dissident member of his family.

She ended up traveling with him on the rest of his journey towards his home. She watched out for his welfare as well as conducting intellectual conversations. Never once he ridiculed her suggestions or anything she said. He called her a scholar and claimed that she was intelligent as well as beautiful. He ended up offering marriage once more but she had to refuse him again. It would have been a good life but she couldn't see herself completely happy.

It was to become a friendship that would last for years. After she returned to the citadel, Farid started sending her letters. They always contained a question or two that would require a well thought out answer and one that she delivered. She gave him advice on the dissidence that occurred in his homeland as well as how to assert his role within his family. Politics and wisdom she was able to give him advice on but she was a complete novice when it came to the moment he chose his bride who was intelligent and beautiful even though she couldn't read or write. The last she heard, he was teaching his bride those very things and they both were very much in love. She even became friends with the bride once the girl realized that she had no intentions beyond friendship with Farid.

Despite her ability to kill, Selma preferred diplomacy to solving issues. She avoided violence wherever possible and only raised her blade as a last resort. Her ways cemented her reputation as an Arbiter and her ability to learn and exchange knowledge in a friendly manner raised her to the rank of Master Librarian, an unprecedented event in the history of the order. Now she was committing another unprecedented event.

Selma entered the city after paying a boy at the stables outside the gates to look after her horse. She looked at the city from the ground and pondered about her mission. Glancing upwards she spotted her falcon circling above the buildings always within sight of her. He would follow her unless given the command to stay though she suspected he took liberties at times and would come on command whether by her calling his name or just holding up her gloved hand. He was her friend and constant companion since she found him as a baby and raised him. She walked through the city as if she belonged, wondering if she should pay a visit to the Bureau of the brotherhood she knew. It would be a courtesy but she couldn't help but wonder if she would be remembered. Would they take kindly to her? Five years was a long time and a short time to cause hard feelings.

She also had a thought about the brotherhood and whether or not they would be at work. It was a silly thought since they always had something at work. While at face value they seemed like cold blooded killers, they weren't. She had seen that and she knew they took the creed seriously. Their targets were men that threatened the overall stability of the land. Right now things were hardly stable.

She thought the crusades to be foolish. She had made that statement once and had been accused of being an addle-headed woman but she never changed her belief. Farid agreed with her. The Holy Land didn't belong to just one group but to all. There was history that interlocked between the various groups that claimed the Holy Land was significant to their faith. The crusades were nothing more than man's greed at play under the guise of a holy war to defend the Holy Land against the infidels.

For centuries men have used God or Allah or whatever deity as an excuse to invade another man's home and take it because that deity said so. The arguments of bringing civilization to the barbarians were equally ridiculous in that it came down to the question of who truly was the savage. It was a source of debate that she loved discussing with Farid. They would argue their points and then play the devil's advocate by arguing the opposite view. It was almost like a game between them and on occasion Farid's bride would enter and Selma loved hearing that woman's opinion since she had much to say even though her education was rudimentary.

Deciding to visit the Bureau later, if only for a courtesy, Selma took to the rooftops and made her way through the city in no particular direction, at first, but more as an attempt to stretch her wings so to speak. She eventually settled on a direction and headed towards the suq in the Poor District. To her it made sense since Tamir was a black market merchant and often it was easier to operate in a place where the people wouldn't be able to put up much protest. More likely that man would be ruling that place with an iron fist but she mustn't be hasty. She was a seeker of knowledge after all.

The rooftops granted fast access and in truth being able to run across the ledges and rooftops with little fear was an asset of hers. She could fly across the ledges of the citadel at home without fear of the jumps; she was a natural. She felt like she was flying every time she ran across the heights most people wouldn't think of taking.

_You have always belonged in the sky Little Falcon._

Selma felt her breath hitch slightly as she paused to scan her surroundings while reflecting on the memory that came to mind. Where was her old friend Altair now? Was he Master Assassin now? Did he remember as she did when they used to fly across the ledges and towers of the citadel at Masyaf?

She actually had thought about her childhood friend ever since they had parted five years ago. She had been twenty at the time and her training with the Assassins was completed and she was to return to Al-Nasrah for her more intensive training as an Arbiter. Al-Mualim had things to say about her progress at the time but she recalled her sadness at leaving. Altair made it a parting to remember. They were to have a last 'flight' that would end with a Leap of Faith with him leading the way.

Selma could remember like it was yesterday. Altair had persuaded her to go on one last race on the ledges and walls. He led and she followed like she always did though she did lead and he followed when she chose to have a race. He picked challenges that no adept novice would go through and she took the challenge like it was a game and it was. It ended at the tower where they would jump into the haystacks below. She could recall how liberating it felt when she jumped off the edge and fell into the hay. It always felt the same way when she did it at other times and she never tired of it.

Altair had not been finished though. Instead of heading back up the hill towards the citadel, he took her to a place that was well hidden from that stone edifice's view. It was not really proper for her to be going anywhere with a man alone but she trusted Altair; she had since the day they had been introduced and he had been adamant in not violating that trust. Even though he had become somber and perhaps angry after his father's execution, he had never been harsh or cruel towards her especially when his temper was short and never used it as an excuse to even attempt to take advantage of her. In fact she could recall several instances where he lashed out violently when he perceived her to be in trouble with the other Assassins.

She had never been to the place he brought her to before but it was clear that Altair had. It was an oasis that had been isolated from the view of the village and the citadel. They wouldn't be seen but they could see everything else and it was peaceful. It was there that Altair said his goodbye and overstepped his boundaries just once by giving her a kiss on the cheek. She had been bold then and returned it with one of her own on his cheek and she had blushed. It was one of the reasons she never forgot that day. One day she hoped to return to Masyaf and to that place.

Turning in the direction of the suq, she started off again. She found the place to be lively with the daily trade. Stalls were open with their wares displayed and their merchant owners shouting out to those passing by that theirs were the finest. She could see that she could easily blend in with the crowd and it was just a matter of easing into the masses and looking around. She pulled her hood up to hide her features and make her appear like a man.

Damas was a city one could easily hide in. The others within the Holy Land were like that as well. Selma noted the scholars that were milling about in their groups and her scholar's mind was drawn to them but she knew she wouldn't be able to blend in. Her robes were reflective of her rank and of the order she served. She would be recognized as an Arbiter amongst scholars and that could prove a distraction. It was best to be someone from the shadows and oddly and not so oddly enough, that was reflective of what the brotherhood was about.

She could see that Tamir did indeed rule this suq by fear with his fist clenched tightly. She saw the look of fear in the eyes of the people as she walked through and she heard the whispers of that man's name. One conversation she happened to chance upon and she paused to listen.

"He called another meeting."

"What this time?"

"Fayid failed to return. Rumor has it they were ambushed… by them."

Selma turned slightly so as not to appear she was listening. She heard the reply, "Them?"

"The Arbiters."

"That is ridiculous. They are nothing like the Assassins. Surely you are mistaken. Anyway he wants us to find the girl. She has what he wants."

Selma felt a pang of alarm when she heard they were looking for the girl she had rescued. She would have to find her if she had made it to Damas or make so that they would be able to not follow the edict from Tamir. She would be slower since she would have a caravan. It was one more thing she had to worry about and a fine example of how her actions affected others. Sighing she turned to walk through the suq and come up with a plan.

"None know Tamir better than I. Come close. Hear the tale that I have to tell. Of a merchant prince with peer…"

Selma turned towards the bellowing orator. She noticed that the two that had been listening grew fearful and crept away. She edged towards the crowd that was gathering. Perhaps this tale could be of some interest even if it was only embellishment. Besides knowledge was said to come from all sources even if they are distasteful to some.

"It was before Haltin," the orator was saying, "The Saracens were low on food and in desperate need of resupply but there was no relief in sight. In those days Tamir drove a caravan between Damas and Jerusalem but recent business has been poor…"

Selma listened to the virtues extolled by the orator while taking note of the whispered murmurs from those that were listening. There was probably some truth to this so she wasn't going to completely dismiss the tale. She turned her gaze towards the people and saw the fear that was on their faces. They were in a poor district and had no champion or they didn't know how they could stand up against a powerful man. She had seen it before and she had seen how easy it was for people to become dependent on a champion. No matter though. She was here on a mission.

With each passing moment, she was becoming more convinced that the judgment against Tamir was to be justified. Each crime was another knife of damnation. True she was well aware of his crimes before now but she also had to take into account the current evidence unfolding before her. She guessed that this orator may know where to find Tamir. She would interrogate him when he was finished and she caught him alone. She dissolved into the crowd to look for a vantage point to move when the timing was right.

The orator finished and started to leave. Selma made to follow not seeing that there was someone else who wished to speak with the orator. She followed but stopped when the orator knocked over a woman carrying a large ceramic jar. The jar was shattered and the woman made ready to demand payment for it but was stilled by the withering gaze the orator gave her as he raised his hand to strike. Selma took a step forward.

"Beware for the eyes of judgment are watching!"

The crowd paused as well as the orator and eyes started to look around. Selma did the same and her eyes lighted on a young boy of fourteen who was looking right at the orator like he was going to spring forward and kill him. The boy then started moving through the crowd and repeated what he had said every so often. It was a good effect since people couldn't tell where it was coming from. Selma just watched as the boy moved as he repeated himself or said a variant, "Judgment will come to Tamir!"

The boy left the crowd in confusion and the orator in fear. She had to make a choice. In the end she followed the boy. While it wasn't logical to do so, her instincts told her that the boy may have something that could prove useful to her. Perhaps it would be able to help her if she went to the Bureau.

It wasn't hard to catch up with the boy since Selma had several advantages. She managed to get ahead of him and surprise him thoroughly when he rounded the corner. She said, "To speak of someone's judgment without proof can be dangerous especially for one so young."

The boy stumbled and fell backwards towards the ground. He sat up and retorted, "There is plenty of proof. None are brave enough to pass it." He then narrowed his eyes after taking a good look at Selma and asked, "What do you know about it?"

"Enough that such could be settled by certain means," Selma replied as she leaned against the wall she had taken refuge against to wait for the boy. "There are plenty that could do such a thing. One simply has to look."

"And who would do such a thing?"

"What of the Arbiters?"

The boy made a slight snorting sound, "And what would they do? They may be able to hand down judgment but never has there been a case where one would administer it. They are nothing but scholars."

"I agree and disagree."

The boy stood up and dusted himself off and looked at Selma. He allowed, "I admit that they are fair in judgment. Their word is respected… but I have never seen one wield a blade. How can someone pass judgment if they are not willing to administer it?"

"That is a good point," Selma allowed. It was something she had spoken to her father of on numerous occasions. It was always discussion but never put into action. Now it seemed that the Arbiters were paying the price for their seeming indifference. "However, often words prove a more potent weapon than a blade."

"Not here. Not with Tamir."

"Tell me about it," Selma encouraged.

The boy looked at her with suspicion but his eagerness to tell someone who was willing to listen won over and he said, "Tamir is a merchant king. He had long supplied things that people needed but he has grown greedy. He charges much for something simple. Now he had a master that demands weapons. He has under his control blacksmiths and other merchants. For whom the blades and armor are for… they are not for Salah Al'din."

"Do you know who?"

"They are for someone else. The shape of them are not like the swords of Al'din's men," the boy replied. "The crests are not like anything I have seen before. But Tamir is an impatient man. He is demanding that they have his shipment ready and he is already upset by the loss of his men in the desert."

Selma studied the boy. He was a good fount of information. She noticed his hands earlier when he was moving away from the crowd. She asked, "How do you know this?"

"Everyone knows. People do talk but they are afraid."

"Indeed."

Selma mused about it some but they were interrupted when a group of armed men appeared and pointed at the boy, "There he is! Catch the thief!"

Selma was well aware that the men were Tamir's men. She recognized them from her wanderings around the city before heading to the suq. She looked at the boy who was looking alarmed that he had a likely chance of being captured. Making a decision she grabbed the boy by the arm and yanked him with her indicating he was to run with her.

It was a chase. The boy saw it as a race for his life. Selma, in a fit of childish pleasure, saw it as a game for a brief moment before switching over to intense concentration and working to evade the guards. She managed to find their escape by scaling a scaffolding to take to the rooftops. She ended up dragging the boy and took refuge within a rooftop garden. She ended up pinning the boy with her hand over his mouth while she listened for any sound related to their chasers.

When she was sure they were gone she uncovered the boy's mouth and he got a good look of her red brown eyes. He seemed mesmerized by them. She said, "Perhaps your primary profession you should stick to but to those that may deserve it." She pointed at his pouch and the others that were full of coin.

"I do." The boy looked at her and asked, "Who are you?"

"Consider me a friend," Selma replied as she straightened her hood. She adjusted her position and then asked, "How about you tell me what you know of Tamir and his operation? Satisfy my need to know and you will be free to go."

"You won't kill me?"

"You haven't given me a reason to."

The boy looked at her. He nodded, "Alright. What do you want to know?"

"Your name."

"Azize."

* * *

**A/N:** Looks like Selma's first day in Damas proves to be interesting as she learns more about what has been going on. What next? We'll see next time on Shades of Grey...


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 3**

Altair sensed something was off the moment he had been sent on his way to Damascus. It was more of a nagging feeling that was hidden by other things. The largest was his failure at Solomon's Temple that led to the Templars invading Masyaf. Coupled with that was Malik was alive, Kadar was dead and Malik brought what he had failed to bring to Al Mualim. It was a disgrace he was living now made clear by the fact that Al Mualim stripped him of his rank and made him a novice again.

Novice. It was an insult and greatly injured his ego. At 25 he was the youngest to obtain the rank of Master Assassin. He was feared and revered by the novices and he was also disliked by his peers. Jealousies grew rampant but he didn't care. There was no need for attachments of any kind. He learned that the hard way with Adha. At Solomon's temple the last straw was broken when his actions caused the death of a brother he actually liked and a brother who would rather see him dead than alive.

Sitting on his mare he absently put a hand to the right side of his abdomen. He had died… at least that was what he thought until Al Mualim told him he saw what he was supposed to see. It didn't sit right with Altair though. He felt the blade slide into him and he felt death's embrace. For his actions at the temple, it warranted death. He had broken the tenets of the Creed.

The area felt tender and he could feel it under his robes and he frowned. His strength wasn't abated. Was it the hand of Al Mualim that allowed this? Was this part of the redemption that he was to achieve by taking the lives of nine men in exchange for his? Nine seemed excessive but compared to what he had done it was justified but he couldn't complete them without seeking approval. It was nonsense in his mind but the Mentor demanded it.

_ I will do what I am told. The Mentor's wishes must be obeyed._

Still rubbing the tender area, Altair kicked his mare into a gallop. He had already been on the road a day and well into the night before making camp. Al Mualim's will be done and since this was the price. He was a Master Assassin and he was doing his work and he needed permission to do it. He kicked his mare to go even faster more out of agitation. She responded with a snort and a slight buck but didn't obey the request.

Altair couldn't help but give a slight smirk. He said, "Kifah, you fight me with everything and yet you are most loyal." He leaned low and patted her shoulder, proud that she could canter and not break her stride.

Kifah snorted and responded with an attempt to buck him off. She gave a playful whinny and continued when he didn't fall off. That trick was old but one that he enjoyed from the spirited mare. He rightly named her 'struggle' since she struggled to live when she was born and considered not worthy of attention. He actually took the time to take care of her. That was about five years ago. Now she was one of the fastest Arabian horses there ever was.

He made it to Damascus after midday and took a moment to survey the city from the hill that overlooked the entrance. His honey colored eyes took in the people milling outside the gates, the guards and the massive walls that surrounded that city. With war raging on for the Holy Land, it was hard to know who to trust but the Creed would guide his actions with regards to the innocents. The guards not so easy and it looked like scaling the walls would be the option.

_Why must you make things so difficult?_

Altair paused and shifted abruptly earning an annoyed snort from Kifah. It was almost like she was there with him. He could feel her questioning and her almost annoyed stare on his back. Even though it was a memory, he could hear her voice, a voice he hadn't heard in years. He studied the walls again in thought.

_Sometimes the simplest solution is the best one._

Closing his eyes, Altair slowly opened them and scanned the gates. There had to be a way to get in. The answer was right in front of him as he grinned at the sight of a group of scholars milling about the outside with the people. He nudged Kifah closer causing inconspicuous mischief to allow an old man to escape from being heckled by a bunch of bullies. He tied her up at a stable next to a large dark horse. It wasn't black but a very dark rich brown and it looked at him with an imploring eye.

Altair returned the look with one of his own while he made sure Kifah was fine and paid coin for her care. He slunk around to get a better view of the scholars and how to best join the group and enter the city. It was effortless and soon he was within the walls of Damas and making his way through the city pausing only to climb up a minaret.

Squatting at the top, Altair took in the sights. He was like a bird circling high above and looking at the people dotting the streets. He could see across the city and see the various rooftop gardens, the uneven layout of the rooftops; the territory he was familiar with and gave him the most exhilaration. The height, the breath of the air above the ground... He could remember the feeling back to his days as a novice. He could remember those days with clarity and he closed his eyes as a particular one came back to him.

_The day was clear and blue with nothing marring it except for the eagle that circled the tower of the citadel. It circled almost lazily as it enjoyed its freedom in the sky. It was like a beacon, challenging all who dared to try and reach for that freedom it enjoyed. It was beckoning loudly and Altair had to be a part of it and began to climb higher._

_ He climbed until he reached the topmost point and would have perched on the roof but he wasn't going to disturb the nest that up there that belonged to the eagle circling above. He looked up at that creature and it gave him regarded him with a glance and swooped away to whatever it was going to do making Altair wish that he could sprout wings and fly. He looked out and down to see the grounds of the fortress that was home and further down the village of Masyaf._

_ "It is easy to see how small things really are from high up."_

_ Altair turned and his features turned from wonderment to a pleased grin that was almost smirking. He should have known that she would follow. She was drawn to the skies too and up here was their little secret. "Indeed. There is nothing comparable to flying Little Falcon."_

_ "True. There is a certain beauty in that."_

_ Altair watched as she walked to where the little nook was and took to peering in. They had discovered the nest with the three eggs. The eagle had been there at the time and should have chased them off but it didn't. Instead it let them near and let them touch her. He watched as she checked the eggs and then move to look out in the direction he had been looking at. She looked like she wanted to spread her wings if she had them and fly away. He ventured, "And sometimes beauty is found on the ground."_

_ She looked at him with those eyes of hers and replied, "Such as the sounds of life." She gave a slight smile and looked back down and took in a deep breath._

_ "It depends on who is looking and what they are looking at," Altair replied as he swallowed slightly to hide the slight embarrassment he felt rising in the heat on the back of his neck._

_ "And who is looking?" The question was uttered softly and full of nervousness like his comment was._

_ Altair blinked and swallowed slightly trying to not betray the fact that he had been a bit forward, but he couldn't help it. He didn't know when this started going beyond childhood friend or did it change? He lowered his hood to reveal his features to her and looked at her with his amber orbs and into her red brown ones and asked, "How about one who sees you Little Falcon?"_

_ She stared at him with her eyes searching his face as she softly asked in reply, "And what of one who sees you my soaring eagle?"_

Altair continued to stare out at the city. His thoughts were on that memory and others like it. His love of heights was a secret world that not even the other Assassins knew about. It was something he preferred that no one could breach and covered it by being cold and arrogant. It went with the fact that he was proud of his skills and the knowledge that he was better than those that were at the same rank or lower. Besides that was the past and what's done was done.

Taking one last breath at the height he was at, Altair jumped down to the lower rooftops to make his way to the Assassin's Bureau. His boots lightly tapped as he ran with a grace that could be equated with flying. He leapt and ran taking in the freedom it was and he could almost hear her laughter like she was chasing him. He brushed it angrily aside and his step became quicker and full of impatience.

He flung himself into the Bureau through the entrance in the roof, his preferred method of getting in. He landed softly in spite of his agitation and composed himself in the vestibule. Ever since that day five years ago, he had been going back to those memories only to become agitated by it and now coupled with his disgrace, he felt ready to lash out at something. He eyed the rafiq at his counter through the door before going in. No doubt word would have reached the rafiq's ears about what happened.

_There are a lot of things that bother you because you let it. Bite it back. You are a good man my soaring eagle but you are also arrogant… it could bring trouble._

Altair heaved a quiet sigh as he entered and greeted the rafiq, "Safety and peace Brother."

"Altair. It is good to see you and in one piece."

"You as well, friend," Altair allowed as calmly as he could even though he caught the faint hint of mocking pleasure at his misfortune. He could sense that feeling of superiority and for a brief moment felt that his own arrogance and feeling of superiority was being pushed back onto him. It was gone as he adjusted his stance to indicate he was there on business and while annoyed by this he was being humble and contrite.

"I am sorry for your troubles."

It was a lie or a polite phrase and Altair and the rafiq knew it. Altair knew there was no sincerity in those words and replied, "Think nothing of it."

The rafiq nodded taking in the fact that Altair was trying his best not to demand what he needed. He felt the urge to goad the Assassin more. "A few of your brothers were here earlier." He took note of Altair's stance and continued, "Oh if you heard the things they said. I'm certain you'd gave slain them where they stood."

That was probable but Altair replied, "It's quite all right."

"Then again you've never been one for the Creed have you?"

Altair had enough of the rafiq's goading. It took a lot of restraint to not reach over the counter and put his blade in the man's throat. "Is that all?"

The rafiq recognized the agitation that was becoming evident in the tense outline of Altair's shoulders. He had enough anyway. He knew what had happened and not doubt there would be plenty of times to remind the Assassin this was his own doing. "I'm sorry. Sometimes I forget myself. Now what business brings you to Damas?"

Relieved that the goading was to end, Altair replied, "A man named Tamir. Al Mualim takes issue with the work he does and I am meant to end it." His tone held the coolness he had perfected over the years and had caused plenty of novices to cower slightly in fear… not that it would work on the rafiq of Damas. "Now tell me where to find him."

"Seek out an Arbiter," the rafiq joked. It was a common thing for Arbiters to share information with the Assassins and vice versa. "I hear there is one here in Damas though the madrasah where their contacts are says there is no thing."

Altair would have liked to question the rafiq about the presence of an Arbiter in the city. He couldn't deny that they were helpful; a little maddening in how they gave their information but helpful. The few times he had come across one, he had looked to see if it was his old friend and each time was disappointed. He decided that the rafiq said that to get a rise out of him since despite his arrogance and attitude with his brothers, he got along with the Arbiters. It had him wonder if they heard of his disgrace too. He replied, "Better to believe the Dai of the Arbiters. They know much."

"Be as it may," the rafiq replied, a little disappointed, "You still must go out and search the city. Tamir makes his living as a black market merchant so the suq district should be your destination. Track down Tamir yourself and find out what he is planning and where he works."

Altair was going to protest about this being a novice's work when the realization hit that he was a novice. It was a blow to his pride and ego. He said, "I understand." He turned to leave.

"Preparation makes the victor."

It felt like a slap to the face to hear that. Altair paused and turned slightly to cast a glance at the rafiq before giving a nod and left the bureau, climbing out onto the roof. It had been a slap because it was recited and the words came from someone he respected.

_Preparation makes the victor children but even then one must always be prepared to change what is prepared._

It sounded like nonsense when he first heard it but it always stuck around in his mind. Right now it sounded like a rebuke and one of the harshest ones he would ever receive. Not even Al Mualim's killing him would have been that harsh and he didn't even know why it was so. Actually he did but he wasn't ready to acknowledge it for the moment. Rather his agitation took over as he leapt out of the bureau and began to make his way to the suq district to gather his information feeling frustrated he was doing menial work.

_What's the point in knowing something if you don't work for it? Knowledge has greater value when it is earned._

Altair nodded as if he was hearing it out loud. He still was annoyed by all of it but… He sighed as he headed for the suq. He could do this. His feet felt a little lighter as he danced across the rooftops to begin his investigations. He could then return and receive Al Mualim's marker to carry out the Master's wishes.

_You are very proud and it isn't a bad thing to have. Just too much of it can hurt and not just you but others._

_ And I am paying for it… Little Falcon._

* * *

"Be at peace," the Assassin said as he lowered the dying man to the ground. Altair had managed to track down his target and gave his findings to the rafiq. He had been given leave to kill the man and the plan went as well as he conceived it once he had the night to dwell upon it.

"You'll pay for this Assassin. You and all your kind."

Altair made a slight smirk. He had heard those words before from previous targets when they realized that they were dead and by his blade. He replied, "It seems you're the one that pays now, my friend. You'll not profit from suffering any longer."

Tamir laughed at that, "You think me some petty death dealer suckling at the breast of war? A strange target don't you think? Why me when so many others do the same?"

"You believe yourself different then?"

"Oh but I am," Tamir replied with a weak cough. "I serve a cause far nobler than mere profit. Just like my brothers…"

That caught Altair's attention and he demanded, "Brothers?"

Tamir chuckled again apparently amused at the confusion that he sowed in the Assassin. "He thinks I act alone. I am but a piece. A man with a part to play. You'll come to know the others soon enough. The Arbiters will see it especially their prize Librarian and my brothers won't take kindly…"

It was like a red hot anger that surged through Altair forcing him to interrupt the dying man. "Then I look forward to ending their lives as well." He didn't like the implied threat towards the Arbiters. Even the Templars knew better than to cross them.

"Such pride. It will destroy you, child," Tamir countered, not at all fazed at Altair's outburst. Rather he looked upwards towards the skies. His gaze took an almost glassy look as he looked upwards and added, "In the end we all face judgment. Hear my words Arbiter. Remember them."

Altair had no idea why Tamir would appeal to the Arbiters. It sounded out of place to him but he brushed it off since the deed was done. "People have to die for things to change," he intoned softly as he brushed the feather that was Al Mualim's marker of death across the blood spattered neck of Tamir. It sounded hollow but felt right.

As he finished, he became aware that he was being watched and he became alarmed. He looked up and looked around trying to find out if anyone was watching him. He was certain that he had planned it out carefully to the point that he wouldn't be seen by anyone while he did his task. Now he was pretty sure that someone was watching and he didn't like it at all.

He took too long to look and he could hear Tamir's bodyguards coming to inquire about their employer. Standing up and still feeling disturbed that he was being watched, he slipped away and managed to avoid being seen by blending in with the crowds. He still couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched and came to the conclusion that if he was being watched, he would more likely be followed. He would not compromise the Brotherhood again.

He felt the twinge from his abdomen like it was a reminder of that but he brushed it aside as he began to move through the city. If he had to, he would lead them around in circles until he was certain that he wasn't being followed. He didn't head straight for the bureau but instead headed towards the suq district leaping over the rooftops going in no particular pattern but being deliberate to make it seem like he was going in a direction.

There weren't too many places to try and hide in a crowd since it was nighttime. Altair was forced to improvise a little by dropping into an alleyway and walking the streets. He still felt like he was being followed. The trouble was that it wasn't one that indicated a threat to him or the Brotherhood. It almost felt like whoever it was decided to toy with him. That made them the dangerous one and he didn't like it.

_Why don't you and Malik make it like a game? Toy with them to make them slip up._

Altair blinked as he turned down another corner and found something that might help with this tagalong problem. Normally he wouldn't go into one of these places but it seemed like a fairly good place to go in and try to see who was following him. He silently entered the inn that was lively with men drinking and huddled around and few dancers were around. Even in war people found a reason to drink and entertain.

Immediately he saw that he had a couple of options as he moved through the crowds silently. He found himself a perch that he could appear that he was there for any reason other than to find who was following him. He sat at the bar in a corner and got a drink though he had no intention of drinking it and looked around. His pursuer was here somewhere and he could sense it. His eyes roved while occasionally lifting his drink to give the appearance he was drinking.

"Looking for some company?"

Altair looked at the dancer that had sidled up and turned away to ignore her. He had no use for a distraction unless he needed one. Instead he looked around while not moving his head, letting his heightened vision look around. He saw nothing but he got the feeling that he was still being watched and that person was going to taste his blade.

"Excuse me. This is for you."

Altair turned towards the innkeeper who was pushing something towards him. He demanded, "Who gave that to you?"

"Don't know. Looked like a Bedu… the little brat," the innkeeper replied. He gestured in a general direction, "He came in and handed it here."

Altair was frustrated that he hadn't been able to catch who it was. He didn't even see anyone wearing what could be taken for the nomads that wandered the desert. He didn't even see the boy that the innkeeper mentioned. He gripped what the innkeeper handed to him and found that it was a note scrawled on parchment.

Actually it was a picture of two eyes. They were eagle eyes and very lifelike and they were looking at him. When he moved the parchment it was like the eyes followed him. Scrawled at the bottom was childish handwriting. He read it and looked around some more before leaving the inn with the parchment clenched in his hand.

The night air was cool as Altair stepped out to look around. He knew whoever it was that was taunting him had to be watching him. They were probably sent from Masyaf to make sure that he did what he was supposed to do and have an opportunity to try and humiliate him. He looked side to side when he was distracted by a falcon's chirping.

Looking up he saw a falcon sitting on the roof across from the inn. It was looking at him with a piercing gaze like it knew him. He found it odd to find one of those creatures out at night even though their vision worked best now. It was disturbing how it chirped while looking at him like it knew him and Altair wasn't sure if he liked it but he was fascinated by the creature. The eagle that used to live in the tower had long gone but one of the hatchlings stayed. He wasn't sure since he hadn't taken the time to check.

The bird chirped again and Altair looked at the drawing he had. He grew wary and knew he had to lose whoever was watching him. He took off in a direction and made turns, climbed on roofs and leaped over the gaps. He went around most of the night until he was certain that no one was following him and made his way back to the Bureau where he tiredly gave his report that Tamir was dead. Later, when settled on the pillows and rugs where Assassins would stay, he mulled over the drawing and the bird that stared at him while from a tower not faraway the bureau was being watched by a figure in grey robes.

* * *

**A/N:** Looks like Altair is on his mission to kill the first of nine. Wondering who has been watching him... Stay tuned for more Shades of Grey...


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 4**

It was habit to rise early for Selma and she was ready to continue with her investigations the day before. She stretched her muscles and looked around to see the various boys and girls she had met yesterday still asleep. She shook her head in an almost motherly fashion but she couldn't help but smile. It was like a joke to her.

They were a guild of thieves… mostly pickpockets but occasionally they did things that helped the less fortunate people of the city; specifically the ones that had been affected deeply by the war. They were children mostly; the orphaned and abandoned that made up the ranks. There were a couple of adults if you could count the eldest at seventeen an adult. Azize was sixteen and his friend and protector Khalil was the seventeen year old and they ran the merry little band.

Selma was impressed at the organization of the group. They never stole more than what they needed and those that were able to find work shared their money to buy what was needed. What was lacking in money, they had in contacts and friendships throughout the city. They protested against the oppression even though they were for Al'din in terms of driving out the Crusaders.

After rescuing Azize and he gave her what she wanted to know about Tamir, he offered her a place to stay for the night. It had been a bit tense since Khalil wasn't sure if he was going to trust her. It didn't matter that she was an Arbiter though it did give some credence. Also her role in saving Azize gave her credibility with them and they let her stay.

She spent the night enjoying a simple but filling meal and entertaining the younger ones. She had no intention of getting too close to them since they had their ways and she sensed Khalil was protective of the children. However, the youngest being five and a pretty bright little boy, he decided to climb into her lap and start asking her questions. Mostly they were about her robes and why she dressed like a man.

In the end she told them the story of the Arbiters and how they came to be. She started with one and ended with all of younger thieves while the elder ones were doing their various chores for the night. She ended up telling them other stories that she had learned from her various travels including the ones she learn from a Bedouin tribe she came across when she and her companion had been attacked by bandits on the way to Acre. It entertained them enough to put them to sleep and she was going to leave to find an empty tower to haunt for the night when she was given refuge for the night.

She looked down from her choice of sleeping place and climbed down to check on them. She couldn't resist starting something for them to eat and couldn't help but remember how many times she did that on occasion for the novices at Al-Nasrah. She may have been that Master's daughter but she was also one of the Order and each contributed to the wellbeing of the whole. She just happened to have a skilled means of making things pleasant with the simplest of things.

She started on a wheat and oat mixture that the English called oatmeal which, with the right ingredients, tasted good and was quite filling. She looked up when she heard her falcon chirp from his perch and she smiled. She cooed at him and held up a hand with a piece of dried meat for him. She smiled when he performed his customary swoop and grab. He took it from her fingers so gently that no one would have guessed him capable.

"He is magnificent."

Selma turned to see Azize and Khalil coming in. Their hair was tousled and their eyes still held sleep. They reminded her of two other people she once knew that looked like that at times. They scowled at her when she laughed that time. She replied, "He is my beloved friend."

Khalil raised his brow and went to get a drink of water while Azize frowned and said, "Beloved?"

Selma chuckled, "He's my constant companion ever since he was a hatchling. He watches out for me and in turn I give him shelter when he needs it." The relationship went deeper than that but most people didn't understand how one could bond deeply with an animal. "He is my friend even though he is a son of none."

Azize was confused but accepted it. He figured it was an Arbiter thing. Most of what they said and did was on the mysterious side. This one was an oddity to him since she could fight and she had a falcon that was her friend. He was curious and queried, "Son of none?"

"He was abandoned as a hatchling. For what reason, I do not know. I took him in and gave him the name Ibn La'Ahad." It was a partial truth but also in honor of her childhood friend's father. It was a private observation from long ago that she remembered and kept to herself. She didn't know why at the time and when she saw Ibn, as she referred to the falcon, she came closer to an answer and gave that bird of prey that name.

"He looks tame."

"He is some of the time," Selma replied with a teasing glint in her eyes. She knew that Ibn could be impish when he felt like it. He was also fiercely loyal and a fairly good judge of character and had interesting ways of showing it. He had kept her from serious trouble more than she could count and it was why he was her beloved friend.

She finished her concoction and urged the eldest boys to try it. She smirked when they wrinkled their noses at it, clearly not familiar with it. She pulled a couple of sugar cubes from a sack she had found and put them in along with a gentle helping of camel's milk. For some reason it tasted better than goat's milk. She laughed when they tried it and then started slurping it like it was the last meal they were going to eat. Her laughing had them blush and they slowed to eating like 'civilized' people just as the others came in and she served them.

"For an Arbiter you know how to cook good."

Selma looked at the youngest named Hakim and kneeled to be eye level with him. She held out his bowl and said, "All Arbiters learn to cook. Some are better than others." She gave a gentle rub to the boy's hair before standing and smiling as they ate.

In being given free reign in terms of obtaining an education, she learned to be open to new ideas. She kept in mind the traditional ways and thought about them along with new ones. She didn't like the fact that the orphaned and abandoned were socially regarded as inferior and the whole issue with women, she didn't touch unless she was in a mood to go to war over it. The little thieves guild here were nothing more than children and they had to grow up fast but from her understanding she could see that they had a good life. While she didn't approve of stealing per se, in their world… she accepted it and it seemed that Azize and Khalil were trying to get legitimate even if it was underground. It had her thinking.

"You really are an Arbiter. You think constantly."

Selma was picking up her bow and slinging it on her shoulders. She looked at Azize and replied, "Just an idea. You could expand your guild to other places like Acre or Jerusalem. Connections in other cities can help those that come to you. There would be more to give as they are obtained through more legitimate means."

Azize looked at Selma. He had never met a woman who was an Arbiter and well-spoken before. She was intelligent and her ideas had merit. It was something he would speak to Khalil about. He watched as she prepared to leave and said, "The suq will be heavy with guards today since Tamir will be there."

"I know," Selma replied as she opened the window and peered out. She could climb out and then drop to the roof below. "You implied as such with your quick fingers." She cast a playful smirk reminding the boy that she had caught him stealing.

Azize blushed since it was a gentle scolding. He watched as she started to climb out the window. She was an oddity. He looked at Khalil and when his friend gave him the nod he turned to see her almost out the window. He called, "When you are finished, come and stay."

Selma looked down at the boy and nodded. "Safety and peace little thief."

Azize normally would have scowled at being referred to as little but the way she said it didn't rankle. He replied, "And to you Arbiter." He heard a chirp and the falcon flew from his perch and out the window nearly startling him but he couldn't help but grin.

Selma took to the rooftops easily, loving the feel of not being hindered by anything. She did keep an eye out for the city guards that also patrolled the rooftops just as it was when she was younger. It was like the games she used to play with the novices put into practice. When she couldn't use the rooftops, she used the dark alleyways and the shadows they provided and continued towards the suq where she knew the black market merchant Tamir would be until she finally made it and was drawn to what looked like a ceremonial courtyard.

Her first impression of Tamir was that he gave the impression that he was king of that district and carried himself as such. Basically it was a man who professed assertion and self-confidence but he was also full of himself. Other observations she had gleaned from reports and what she had seen since he started becoming a thorn in their side. His clothing looked opulent since she was one that looked for utilitarian purposes when it came to clothing. The only exception was a set of clothes for a woman that Farid gave her when he presented her to his circle of friends as a scholar of some repute. She still had them since she considered other possibilities for them if the occasion called for it.

Staying in the shadows on the rooftops, she maneuvered to get a better view of her accused. She narrowed her eyes at the sight of the man bullying a poor merchant who looked like he sacrificed his health to do the bidding of the man and was cowering on the ground. She glanced to see that the city guards were not going to help. She would have snorted her disgust but didn't since she spotted something that she thought was a trick of the mind. She peered closer as she observed the scene from her perch.

"I have done all I can," the merchant said with a quivering voice, "The men work night and day but your client requires so much…"

Listening to the conversation, Selma picked out that Tamir was not in business for himself. Rather he was doing something for someone else and from the implication and the information Azize supplied, it appeared that it was big. She sighed since it was a larger plot and that meant traveling to the other major cities to learn more. It also brightened at the prospect of returning to Masyaf since she couldn't exclude the Brotherhood. For now her focus was on Tamir.

"It is not enough," Tamir was saying in frustration, "I gave you everything. Without me you would still be charming serpents for coin. All I ask in return was that you fill the orders I bring you. You think I ask too much?"

The dagger came out and Selma resisted the urge to react. She could do nothing for the poor soul without drawing attention to herself. She gave a silent gasp as she watched Tamir slash the belly of the cowering merchant before plunging it deep into the body. She had seen death before but it always made her shudder at the cruel ways men took to killing their victims. At least the Brotherhood did it swiftly and with little pain. This man didn't care as she watched him stab the body repeatedly until he finished and left it there to rot.

Right then and there, Selma declared his fate to be sealed. He would die that day. She just needed to find a place to strike. She moved along and noticed that someone else was following the condemned. She paused as she recognized the white robes of the Assassins of Masyaf. She turned to look and determine who it was even though the hood was pulled over their head and low. After a few moments she grinned and decided to follow and observe.

She wasn't angered that someone else was to do the deed. No doubt Tamir's deeds had reached the ears of Al Mualim. Besides, it had been some time since she had seen Altair perform an assassination. She moved to have position that would keep her hidden but also to observe her old friend and perhaps see if he would realize that he was being watched.

She knew it was Altair by the way he stood. Even if he were to stand with his other brothers in a crowd and all had their hoods up, she could find him. Partly it was because she learned to recognize how the various brothers moved. For instance Malik had a tall straight gait that was swift and strong. She also learned how to tell who was older and who was younger; these were the signs that hunters used applied to people. The other part was something she preferred to keep to herself. Besides she always said that Altair was a soaring eagle and when she was being impish a strutting eagle.

It was a clean kill. She watched Altair slink past the bodyguards without being noticed and he pounced on the condemned. She adjusted her position slightly as she watched the two converse with each other. She was not an Assassin but she knew that when they made their kills, they wished the souls of the dead to the other side. They were not coldblooded and many of the brothers she knew did practice the faith of Islam.

Watching Altair, she heard Tamir raise his voice slightly and call out to the Arbiters. Somehow she got the impression that he was talking to her but then again it could have been any of the others. She didn't dismiss it completely but tucked it away at the back of her mind as she watched Altair stiffen slightly and look around. He knew he was being watched and she couldn't help but smile. "The eagle is caught but you can't see from where," she murmured in that teasing voice she used when they were younger.

She stood and moved to a different place almost like she was loping along like a predator. She still had the Eagle of Masyaf in her sights and she watched with a grin as he looked where she had been previously. He knew and she could see that he was uncomfortable with it. She watched him stand up and look around and she noticed the bodyguards were wondering where their boss was. She slipped her bow to give Altair a hand when he started taking to the rooftops and headed towards where the Bureau would be.

Lowering her bow, Selma thought for a moment and then move to follow the Assassin. There was some distance between them but she would catch up easily. She could tell that Altair suspected he was being followed and changed direction to lead her away from the Bureau. She couldn't help but grin as she ran after him. If she wanted to, she could pull back and let him get comfortable so he could head back to the Bureau.

_Make it into a game. Toy with them. Make them think they are safe._

It may have been five years and much had happened in both their lives. Selma could see that it was going to take more than just showing up at the Bureau to truly say hello. If it were reversed, he would have done the same and probably a bit more heavy handed than she would. She decided to play with Altair if only to see if he would remember that game that led to an argument that widened already existing rifts.

_It was a bright day and Malik and Altair were practicing stealth maneuvers particularly in tracking things. They had decided to play a prank on one of their trainers who was teaching the younger novices. They were arguing over the best way to sneak up on him when she came out with a bow slung over her shoulders with a quiver. They paused trying not to laugh since she still was small even though she was thirteen._

_ Selma looked at the pair and asked what they were doing. Malik simply said in his usual gruff manner that didn't bother her at all, "Nothing. Go about your business. Novice."_

_ It was more bark than bite and Selma retorted, "I could say the same to you… Novice."_

_ It had all of them laughing. Altair's honey colored eyes seemed to dance. They always did when she made him laugh. He explained, "We are practicing stealth. We want to sneak up on Amad."_

_ Selma shook her head slightly, "He will see you coming before you get within the training grounds." She then turned away to think as her features created a slight frown. Her lip formed a slight pout and she was unaware of the looks both were giving her._

_ "And what do you propose," Malik countered trying to hide his emotions from Altair who started to stiffen into that protective stance he assumed._

_ "Why don't you and Malik make it like a game?" Selma finally said as she looked at the pair. "Make it into a game. Toy with them. Make them think they are safe."_

_ It was simple and they tried it. It became a handy piece of advice and also what would save Altair from the business end of Abbas' blade. It would also be the cause of humiliation to Abbas that furthered his anger._

It was a simple piece of advice that she used. If she hadn't Abbas would have killed Altair and made it seem like it was an accident. The rift between the boys was something that grew into intense hatred, more on Abbas' side than Altair's. If she hadn't followed… the outcome would have been very different. Perhaps it was risky to even attempt to toy with Altair but she knew him. Even though she had heard things about him, she knew him and he wouldn't have it any other way. Still she would be cautious. One didn't get to be a Master Assassin without being as skilled as he was. It would be a friendly game.

She chased him around the city until darkness started to pull her cloak over Damascus. She slowed when she saw him jump down and started walking. She followed him to an inn that was of lesser repute and watched as he looked around before he went in. She could follow but she figured that he went there to lose her. She chuckled thinking how to best tease her old friend.

She sat on the roof and studied the inn as she pulled out a piece of parchment. She looked at it and realized it was the drawing that one of her little thieves had drawn and given her the other night. She smiled since they looked like her friend's eyes with the same alertness but the boy said that they were hers. She had been amused by the assessment since only one other dared to compare her eyes to those of one of the birds of prey she was chasing.

"The news is spreading through the city about Tamir."

Selma looked at Azize who came and sat beside her. "Satisfaction should be had then now that one who has caused suffering is dead."

"True. People are rejoicing." Azize looked at the inn and then at Selma. "What you are looking for is in there no?"

"Perhaps but I worry that you ask too much." Selma lifted her head so it appeared that she was looking forward while she glanced around the edge of her hood. "There is nothing wrong with knowing but you must be prepared to accept the consequences that come from what you seek."

"I'm sixteen."

"And in most cases considered a man but a young man nevertheless."

Azize sighed. There was that maddening confusion known of the Arbiters. He looked at the Arbiter as she stared at the inn. He glanced down to see the parchment in her hands. Suddenly the faintest traces of a smile appeared on her face. He ventured, "You wish to do something."

"Perhaps."

"Do you require assistance?" Azize looked at her trying to be patient with the fact that she suddenly seemed secretive.

Selma turned to look at Azize. She gave a slow smile and replied, "I require the assistance of a thief who knows how to get in and out without being seen. Do you know of such?"

Azize couldn't help but grin. It wasn't what he did normally but he was willing. It sounded like fun. "I do. What can I do?"

Selma smiled and picked out a quill and ink from within one of the pockets of her robes. She scrawled something underneath the drawing and folded it in half. She handed it over to Azize and whispered what she wanted him to do and sent him off while she called for Ibn. That fine feathered friend came and she spoke to him in a low voice before letting him go and moving to find her place.

She watched Azize leave the inn and give her the signal and she returned it. She liked the boy and he seemed to like her more like someone for guidance. He was good at leading. It would shape the man he would be. Her gaze was diverted when she heard the door to the inn open and out came her soaring eagle looking around. She knew that it would get his attention.

Ibn chirped from where he had taken root and she watched the scene. She had moved back enough so that Altair would feel comfortable and head back to the Bureau. She watched with interest as he stared at Ibn. He always seemed to have a way with the birds of prey. Certainly the eagles liked him such as the one at Masyaf.

She watched as he looked around. He knew he had been followed and he was good enough to look around to see if he was still being watched. It was death to an Assassin if they carelessly left themselves open. She smiled softly as she watched him look around. She couldn't see his face but it didn't matter. She drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them as she watched with interest as he waited for Ibn to fly away before turning to head to the Bureau. She noticed that he kept the parchment and put it into the pouch tied to his waist.

When he took to the rooftops she stood up. Grabbing her bow she slung it over her shoulders and moved to watch the direction he was heading in. Perhaps it was a cruel game but… She would follow Altair. Something told her that she should and there was the niggling thought that it had to do with Tamir and the fact that the conversation she overheard plus her information led to something that should be investigated. There was another part though.

Selma took a breath having judged sufficient distance was between her and Altair and took off after him. She ran across the rooftops lightly on her feet silently leaping across the gaps in the streets. It was strange that she was seeing Altair to the Bureau but it didn't bother her in the least. She was seeing to the welfare of a friend while plotting means of keeping him on his toes.

He wasn't aware of her since he went straight to the Bureau and tumbled in with grace through the hole in the roof. She gave a slight grin as Ibn came to rest on her shoulder. She pulled out a piece of dried meat and held it out to him. She looked at her friend and asked, "Well my friend, day is done. Shall we continue tomorrow?"

Ibn merely chirped. He then playfully tweaked her hood. He gave a slight cooing sound before taking leave of her shoulder. Selma chuckled and turned to head back to her little merry band of thieves. She returned to warm greetings and news that they were going to expand. It had been an interesting and good day.

* * *

**A/N:** Looks like Selma started making friends in Damas and has something up her sleeve with regards to a certain Assassin. Keep watching for more Shades of Grey...


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 5**

Al Mualim had been pleased by Altair's report and his presentation of the bloodied feather. The first of the nine had been executed and Altair's path towards penance was just beginning. It was a small step and while he had been frustrated at his restrictions, Altair was willing to see the wisdom in it. He had a rank restored to him but it was clear that he was far from being what he had been. He fingered his gauntlet as he walked towards the stables to fetch Kifah.

He paused along the way to look around. Ever since he sensed that he had been watched and followed in Damas, he had been wary of his surroundings. He hadn't seen anyone since then but he was wary. He suspected that Al Mualim may have had one of his brothers tail him to make sure that he was doing his job and it had him annoyed that the master thought he needed a babysitter.

Kifah whinnied to break his concentration. Altair couldn't help but smile as he reached out and stroked her nose. She snorted and bumped him in the chest. He replied, "Kifah. Always ready to go."

Kifah rumbled as Altair checked the saddle bags for his supplies. It was a two to three day ride to the port city of Acre where his next target Garnier de Naplouse was located. She was ready to go after a two day rest and already pawing the ground. Rummaging through his bag, he came across the parchment with the eyes of a bird of prey, probably an eagle or a falcon. He pulled it out and took a look at it remembering the falcon that night.

Kifah's impatient snorting and gentle head butt got his attention and he folded it and put it in a pouch on his belt. He climbed up on Kifah and said, "Kifah you are too impatient. It's going to get you into trouble."

Kifah only whinnied as Altair directed her head to the road that would lead to Acre. She didn't even wait for the prodding of his boots and took off once he gave her head. It was one of her tricks to try and get him unsettled but he was ready for it and couldn't help but grin as he steadied his seat. The mare was in high spirits today and he let her have her head for a short while. He chided gently when she resisted to his slowing her pace since the day was hot.

_You take your impatience and frustration out on one that does you know harm. Be nice._

Altair couldn't help but snort at that. Memories of her were frequent nowadays. The truth was he thought about her a lot after she left Masyaf. Honestly he thought it was better she did since things were not as well as they could have been. And she was considered a beauty, a dangerous thing to be at the time. He could still remember though that although she was beautiful, she was firm like the Master when she was angry or disappointed. Master Assassins cowered under her stare and she was younger than they were. She had earned the right in his mind and no doubt she took back what she learned to the other Arbiters.

Kifah snorted at the pace. She wanted to run. Altair was somewhat distracted from his thoughts at her impatience. He couldn't help but click his tongue in an annoyed fashion and he was reminded of himself and what happened in Solomon's temple. He had failed and now his shame was branded into the view of the Brotherhood. He said, "Kifah."

The horse nickered not liking that she was being rebuked. It was much like his situation. He didn't like the fact that he was being made to redeem himself. He rubbed the sweet spot on her neck to show that he still cared and she rumbled her satisfied rumble. It didn't mean she forgave him and he knew that. She was fickle like a woman.

The day went into the night and Altair gave Kifah her head to let her run a little bit during the night before he stopped to rest. Having traveled between Masyaf and the cities of Acre, Jerusalem and Damascus, he knew where the best spots were to pitch camp; the ones where he wouldn't be disturbed by other travelers that happened to be going by.

Seeing Kifah to comfort for the night Altair prepared for his rest and found himself staring up at the night sky. His sleep was not disturbed and he woke up feeling refreshed and ready to continue onto Acre. Kifah was ready to go and she waited impatiently for him to mount and with a stomp of her forefeet, she took off. The only time she indicated a change of pace was when a couple of bandits decided he was worth trying to rob.

It was a quick dispatch and the would be thieves were either dead or slinking away like the cowards they were. He took care not to use his hidden blade since that would give him away and he didn't need the extra scrutiny of enemies. He continued onward and heeded Kifah's insistence at the speed. He made it to Acre by nightfall of the third day. It wasn't ideal but he was there and an Assassin completed his mission no matter what time of day it was. He brushed away his tiredness and dismounted to lead Kifah to the stables to be boarded. She may be spirited but she was a creature too and he sensed she was tired. He put a hand to rub her nose affectionately and trudged down towards the stables near the gates.

A cry caught his attention and he looked upward to see the falcon he had seen before. It was some magic or something that was at play. It was the same one flying overheard, circling as if looking for something before it flew into the city. His gaze lingered as the thought that it couldn't be the same one crossed his mind since this one had the messenger carrier attached. Or perhaps he was mistaken?

_You shouldn't be so quick to judge Altair. Sometimes there is more than what the eye can see. See?_

Altair blinked as he handed over coin for Kifah's care and gave her a rub when she nickered for him not to leave. He actually made it into Acre without any trouble and took to the rooftops to make for the Bureau. His expression was firm but he was aware of everything nearby; he looked out for any signs of guards that would take a shot at him.

_Sometimes what someone shows on the outside isn't what they truly are._

Altair leapt over the street to the rooftop across. He had been told that he had been arrogant and cold. He only did what he thought was his by right. He was better than his peers. But what was the cost of that? He would forever ask himself that and he could see how lonely his life had been and it was caused by his own doing.

He was an Assassin. They had a duty to a higher expectation. The simple wants and desires had no place since they clouded judgment. Emotional attachments caused this and in the end what benefit were they? Extracting revenge on Adha's death brought no satisfaction to him. All it did was maybe rid the world of men better dead than alive but it hadn't brought him what he thought it would. He really should stop thinking about _her_. His friend.

He called her Little Falcon on the first day that they met. He didn't know why at the time but when he saw her… he knew. He vaguely remembered the reverence his father gave her, which was unusual since she was a girl, when he introduced them. Later he figured it was just respect for her father since he was an honored guest of Al Mualim.

His name for her was justified when she boldly asked him if he liked to ride horses. Again it wasn't the thing a woman or a girl for that matter did. His response made her smile and it got bigger when he showed her the one that was his at the time. When she rode the beast it looked like she was flying even though she was small. That was when he first called her Little Falcon and the name stuck and she was pleased with it.

Altair made a sharp turn to avoid an archer's sight and continued towards the Bureau. She was the only one who said that there was more to him than the arrogance and coldness he displayed. What did she see that others couldn't? He was what he was. There was no changing that. Besides it was something sentimental that women would say. His frustration began to arise the moment he saw the entrance.

Quietly he lowered himself into the Bureau to pay a visit to the rafiq. One look told him that the rafiq knew of his plight and it appeared he was going to have to suffer through it like he did at Damas. It seemed that Al Mualim saw fit to make sure everyone knew of his humiliation and shame. He stifled anything that would resemble resentment or anything related to it and walked in.

Jabal, the rafiq of Acre looked up from where he was petting a bird and said, "Ah Altair. A little bird told me you would be paying me a visit. A little falcon in fact."

Altair turned his head sharply but tempered the action to make it look like he was being his arrogant self. Just the mentioning of her name that he gave her… His eyes lighted on the bird that Jabal had been petting and recognized it as the one that had stared at him for a time. It may have been a joke to the rafiq but Altair didn't see it like that. He said nothing though since he knew that the Brotherhood didn't use birds of prey as messengers. He ventured, "Was it a message sent by anyone other than Al Mualim?"

"Hardly of any importance to you," Jabal replied in an abrupt manner much to the annoyance of the younger man. "Should longtime friends of the Brotherhood wish to send a message that is their affair… not yours."

The rebuke was evident in the tone of the rafiq. He wouldn't have dared speak to a Master Assassin like that. As it were though, Altair was but a novice and hence… It rankled and made the small accomplishment of a rank restored seem like nothing. He could feel the pleasure of the rafiq and he lowered his head.

Jabal, satisfied at the rebuke issued, continued, "And who is the poor unfortunate the Al Mualim has chosen to taste your blade Altair?"

Altair replied firmly, wishing to get this over with, "Al Mualim has ordered the execution of Garnier de Naplouse." He glanced over at the falcon who was looking at him boldly and he felt compelled to return the gaze.

Jabal watched the Assassin as he stared at the falcon who was staring back. His expression was thoughtful as he mused through his observations while clarifying, "The Grand Master of the Knights Hospitalier?"

"Yes."

"Have you learned anything?"

It was already dark as night took over and Altair had arrived when it started to fall. The people that would have been the most help were already long gone and in their beds. Part of that delay was that he thought he was being followed again and made a side trip to try and discover who it was. He replied, feeling like a child that had gotten caught doing something and he hated the feeling, "There was nothing that was worth anything in terms of the best time and place to strike."

It was hardly impressive to Jabal but he could concede to the lateness of the day. Still the novice had to learn and he replied, "Perhaps some information could be gained when others are asleep. Who is to say that it only comes from day?"

Feeling rebuked again and disliking it heartily, Altair turned to leave. He paused when the falcon on the counter suddenly darted his head forward and nipped what was left of his missing ring finger, drawing blood. He looked at the creature with a narrowed look and it returned it with a challenge in its eye, as if daring him to strike at it. It then took off, spreading its great wings and headed out of the Bureau, ignoring the pigeons and making the rafiq laugh.

Altair said nothing but took off after the bird. His keen vision caught sight of the creature. It challenged him by drawing first blood. _Alright flying brother. Lead me to your master._

An Arbiter was here in Acre; that much was certain. They used the birds of prey more readily than pigeons or couriers to send their messages. If one was here in Acre, they might have information about his target. They were seekers of knowledge; they decided fate and the Brotherhood executed it. It was overly simple but many a time the Arbiters brought attention to those that deserved death to the Brotherhood or they had information that might help. This one may merely be passing through but still the information was there and more likely he was going to have to work for it. It was a price to pay when seeking an Arbiter's help.

_What is knowledge worth if it isn't earned?_

Sighing Altair continued tracking the falcon as it flew above the streets. He barely managed to avoid a couple of archers that dotted the rooftops in his pursuit. He followed the creature to a high tower that looked like it would have a view of the city. He watched as it flew into one of the many entrances but it didn't come out. "So you roost here," he murmured to himself as he began to climb.

The climb was hardly a challenge and he was where the falcon had flown into and looking around quietly for any sign of the Arbiter. He could have demanded that they reveal themselves but that was a foolish move. The idea that it was a trap crossed his mind but that was also foolish and he dismissed it as such. The Arbiters wouldn't do such a thing unless it was a means to teach a lesson or someone was impersonating them and Altair doubted that it was either.

Finding nothing, Altair growled softly in frustration. He prepared to leave and find a means of obtaining some information when something caught his eye. It was near the docks and looked suspicious to him. It warranted a closer look and he climbed down from the tower to get closer. When he found a good vantage point he could make out cargo wagons with the emblem of the Hospitaliers on the sides. People were inside and crying to be let out. This had him curious as he leaned over to see two members of that order conversing and decided to listen.

"Here is another from Jerusalem."

"What is Garnier doing with this riffraff? He turns away ordinary citizens for this. The people are close to violence over this." The guard sighed and added, "This is close to the scandal at Tyre."

"What scandal?"

Even though the noise of the cargo was enough to drown out voices, the man leaned forward to whisper, forcing Altair to listen in closer, long and hard. "Garnier once called that city home but there was some sort of scandal and he was exiled. It's said he was experimenting on citizens."

The other looked a little sick, "What sort of experiments?"

"I don't know the details but it worries me. Has it begun again? Is it why he locks himself away in the fortress?"

"I don't know but I do know that we should get this lot to the hospital. Garnier says they are in need of healing." The guard shrugged his shoulders. He wasn't supposed to be asking questions… just follow orders.

"How does he know?"

Altair didn't listen anymore and watched as the guards moved on. He looked at the wagon full of people that were moaning and begging to be set free. He was sorely tempted to do something to free them. Unfortunately that would expose himself unnecessarily and that would lead to compromising the Brotherhood. He had done that once and it cost him… and others.

He turned to leave when the sight of flapping robes caught his eye. He didn't have to stay but he was curious and decided to watch. It was no Assassin; that much was clear. The robes were mot white but darker. The exact shade he couldn't tell but he could admit he was impressed by the skill of the stranger. They moved like a brother. His admiration rose a little more when he realized he had lost sight of the stranger and frowned trying to find them using his eagle vision.

A falcon cry sounded and his attention was drawn to the source. His amber orbs focused on the flying brother that had nipped his finger circling above. The cry had startled the Hospitalier guards since they were not used to seeing such a creature. It was amusing that they were frightened by nonsense but it served a purpose as Altair saw. The people in the wagon were escaping out the back and running into the city but there was no sign of who did the deed.

_Impossible without a key_, Altair mused as he shifted his position to hide in the shadows lest he be found and accused of the deed just done. He made his way back to the tower he had followed the falcon to and barely managed to hide in its shadows just as the guards began to shout about their missing cargo. He watched as the confusion developed and the prisoners were long gone.

"It is sickening," a low voice came from behind.

Altair gave an abrupt turn to see the stranger he had seen below standing behind him. He had his hand on a throwing knife and was prepared to throw it until the moonlight and his well-honed vision allowed him to recognize the robe. He lowered the knife and sheathed it saying, "It is since they are to be used in experiments. Safety and peace Arbiter."

"Safety and peace, Assassin."

Altair looked at the Arbiter and thought of what to say. What he had seen was most unusual for them. He ventured, "What is your business in Acre?"

"An answer to a puzzling question."

Altair felt his impatience return. He was never one for the riddles the Arbiters spoke but he respected them. He had learned that sooner or later the questions he asked would be answered. It was a matter of getting to that point. "A question?"

"Of the shadows that surround death and those who may be one of many."

Altair narrowed his eyes at that. Was it this Arbiter that caused his unease? Was he being followed by the Arbiters? If so, for what purpose? "Strange you say such a thing. They were words of a dying man," he replied, decided to test his theory.

"But words that have been spoken by thoughts."

"Do you always speak as such?"

"Do you always ask questions to which you know the answer?"

There was silence for the moment as Altair felt slightly rebuked by response but his impatience outweighed it a little. It was tempered more when the Arbiter relented, "This is but a small piece of the troubles of Acre and they are many."

Altair could have gloated; he would have a few years ago, but he knew that it was a small victory. The Arbiter's comment was like a gentle appeasement but still had the hints of rebuke. It was a reminder that he had to work for what he needed. He asked, "Could you point me where to find more on Garnier de Naplouse?"

The Arbiter paused a moment and looked at him. It was a common thing they did and Altair had been subjected to it times before. It felt like they were deciding whether or not to share what they knew or they were thinking of a task that would allow him to earn what he was asking for. Each one was different but they all had that same feeling. It was different from the rafiqs's scrutiny.

The Arbiter looked at Altair and finally said, "Often to know a man is to know his work." The Arbiter started petting something in the dark.

It took a moment for Altair to realize that the Arbiter was petting the falcon that he had seen previously. So he had been right in his suppositions. He heard the Arbiter's response and gave a nod. It was as good an answer as he was going to get in terms of receiving help. He replied, "Thank you for your help."

"It is but a small piece. To get a larger one, one must build upon it."

"As is the purpose of the Arbiters." Altair knew he should leave soon. Yet he was curious and asked, "Is that what you seek?"

The Arbiter didn't respond to that. Rather the falcon gave a chirp and Altair observed as the Arbiter seemed to listen to the chirping. Finally the Arbiter said, "It is a puzzle and one must collect all the pieces."

That was as good as an answer Altair was going to get from the Arbiter. He nodded, "Then I should leave you to your business. Thank you, friend."

"Safety and peace… Altair."

Altair had started to leave when the Arbiter addressed him. Upon hearing his name, he abruptly turned only to find that they were gone. He narrowed his eyes as he looked around. It was obvious that this Arbiter knew him. Which one was the question and he had met a few. Most kept their hoods down preferring to see who they were talking to; something about being able to see the difference between those that seek knowledge and those that want to use it for own means or something like that. They were scholars.

This one though preferred to be hooded. Altair couldn't recall meeting one that was like this. Perhaps it had something to do with the incident that just occurred. It was an oddity since Arbiters were mediators in most respects. They recorded and observed but never really interfered. Had the Crusades changed their view of that? It was one of many questions he had but he knew the chances of meeting an Arbiter again was slim unless he sought them out and that meant a ride to Al-Nasrah.

He had been to the citadel of Al-Nasrah once and that was with Abbas and a couple other novices. They were there to see the Arbiters at their work and to understand how they fit into the roles they assumed. There was one Arbiter who was actually a Master Librarian as his title was referred to. He was elderly like a couple of the Master Assassins he knew but he gave the impression that he was a crazy old man.

The more he thought about it, Altair realized that perhaps this was a reflection of the lessons he learned about there being more to an appearance. Perhaps things were changing for the Arbiters. It was a lingering thought to possibly stop at the citadel on his return to Masyaf. The master of that order would see him and it wasn't arrogance speaking to that. It was more that the master knew him and would drop what he was doing to inquire. Of course time did change things.

Sighing with slight frustration, Altair gave up looking for the Arbiter. He would have time to ponder over it when he was finished with his task here in Acre. There was nothing more to investigate here and he had a direction of where to go. He would continue in the morning. He returned to the Bureau to sleep and ended up dreaming of the falcon and he was chasing it.

* * *

**A/N:** Altair begins his investigations in Acre and comes across an Arbiter. Now who is it? Keep watching for more Shades of Grey...


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 6**

Selma was disgusted by Garnier and his actions. The things she had heard and seeing the people enraged at his actions of turning them away… It was despicable. Healers were to help those in need. Still the Arbiter in her told her to reserve judgment but it was the Assassin in her that was angry and demanded retribution. It was tempting to laugh at a joke that had been saddled upon her by the Assassins and would often tease her with it when she took issue with something such as the way training was done.

_Is that the Arbiter or Assassin talking little Al-Fakhir?_

_ I think it is both and that's what scares me._

Selma felt her lip twitch as she thought about that memory and reflected over her meeting Altair the previous night. It was the first time she had seen him face to face since they parted ways. It was almost painful since she had not revealed herself and it was clear he didn't recognize her… but that was her doing. Still it was… pleasant to see him again. Her feelings hadn't changed and she couldn't resist playing with him once she spotted him in Damas and then later trailing him to Masyaf. It made her want to laugh that he didn't even see her amongst the villagers of Masyaf.

She followed him to Acre and it was much like how it was when they were children. He would go and she would follow like a little shadow. She was also curious about his mission and the whispers of Templars amongst the villagers piqued her interest. Again she couldn't resist playing with him and chuckled when he took the roundabout way of getting to Acre on his last day of his journey. Then her imp of a beloved friend decided to play with him.

Ibn led Altair to her and she suspected that he had done more than just pique her soaring eagle's interest and love of the birds of prey. Her beloved friend was playful in his nature but her defender and friend. The imp led Altair to where she had gathered information at the state of affairs of Acre. She had noticed the atmosphere the moment she arrived and discovered Garnier de Naplouse and the dissention he was causing. She found out about a shipment and decided to stage some interference with a little help from Azize.

The little band of thieves decided to follow through on her suggestion and Azize had left when she did to start an Acre outpost of the thieves' guild. He knew some people there already and started on the rudimentary parts of it. He actually found her when she arrived and introduced her to the band and offered to give some help. She didn't want to exploit it but he was insistent and those that he knew heard about the Arbiters. So they provided their help in freeing and hiding the prisoners. They were also running around and gathering information about what was going on.

Selma knew that she couldn't fix their problems but she could give them the means to fix it or point them in the right direction. People were only as strong as what they could do for themselves. She couldn't resist mothering the younger ones and they clung to her like barnacles on the ships that docked in the port. It was a good feeling since she was often alone with the exception of Ibn and to have unconditional affection from someone… it was lifting. They didn't care that she was a woman and educated and she was happy.

"The first scouts are back,"Azize said as he joined her on the rooftop of the thieves' guild base.

Selma looked at the boy and was aware that he couldn't see anything but the lower half of her face. When she was on a mission, she preferred to have her hood up. It allowed her to blend into the crowds. She replied, "Anything more on Garnier?"

"There are the rumors of people becoming restless," Azize replied as he continued to look in the direction that he was facing. "They say that he turns them away from the hospital. Kamilah picked up on rumors that he experiments on the patients but it conflicts with the reports that he heals them. What kind of man does this?"

"One who knows how to manipulate a situation to his advantage," Selma replied as she crossed her arms over her chest. "He just uses… cruel methods."

"Most people don't know what to believe," Azize countered as he glanced at her as he crossed his own arms over his chest.

"What do you believe, Azize?"

Azize thought about the question for a moment. He then replied, "Each person reaps what they sow. You help someone in need and it is returned to you. Perhaps that is what the people see when Garnier cures people. They overlook the atrocities to see the miracle."

Selma gave a hum of approval and replied, "An astute observation Azize. Do you see as such when I accept your aid?" She turned to give him a good look and caught his eye when he turned to look at her.

"No," Azize answered automatically and firmly. It was probably odd to hear since he was a thief but it was true. He then took the moment to add, "My father once said before he died that a true man is defined by the actions he does for others and does his work without expectation of praise. To expect such is prideful and arrogance." He cleared his throat since his next words could sound very forward. He said, "You are not a man but you do what a man should do and I see that my father was also talking about how a woman is too."

Selma thought on that and offered, "Your father sounds wise."

"He told me that I had to look out for myself but if I had someone under my care, I was to look after them; to care for those that are forgotten." Azize paused and considered his next words and finally blurting, "He would have liked you."

"And I would have enjoyed meeting him," Selma replied with a smile. She looked at the distance and could see the overlay of the port city. She sighed, "I must be going then."

"Go to the hospital. They say that when he starts examining the patients, he is ignorant to things around him."

"Shukaran," Selma replied with a smile to sincere her thanks. She held out her forearm and waited while Ibn landed on her forearm for his treat of dried meat. She stroked his feathers for a moment before sending him on his way.

Perhaps it had been wrong with what she had been doing and what she had in mind but she truly didn't know how her old childhood friend would take to her being there. He had been respectful last night but he had seen nothing but an Arbiter. His respected was something to be respected and vice versa. The truth was, she was nervous about revealing herself. Time was said to change people and she was afraid that it changed him.

Looking over the edge she glanced back at Azize and said, "Safety and peace."

"Be careful."

Selma took the warning to heart as she made her way towards the hospital in the fortress of that knightly order charged with caring for the sick and destitute. She used the rooftops to speed along and get there faster until she jumped down to make her way through the streets. Occasionally she paused to listen in on conversations and they verified what she had heard. The people were angry at what was going on. People were being turned away instead of being treated and the rumors on experiments on patients were more than hushed whispers. It cemented her belief that Garnier was a man that seemed to have lost sight of what his purpose or calling was.

She approached the hospital only to find out that only the monks were allowed to enter. That was going to be a problem since she was in grey robes. She may be a scholar but it was clear that she was an Arbiter and that could alter what she should be seeing. She had to find another way in and she spotted it by looking up to spy where the archers were. She had to scale the wall but she could get in and tail Garnier and pronounce judgment. As she moved into position, she caught sight of white that could have been mistaken for a monk but a closer look revealed that it was an Assassin and not any Assassin but Altair himself.

"Help me! Help me!"

Selma turned to see a man running through the courtyard. A guard was chasing him and caught him along with another. She noticed that no one was interfering. It had her open her eyes to how things were run in this part of the city. The man was kicking and screaming to be let go. She spotted Altair's form as he stiffened slightly; he was not pleased by this either.

She had heard things from the rafiq of Damas. She heard even more from the one here in Acre. Yet she knew what lay beneath their words. She saw the boy she knew that was now a man and had what she could always see. He wanted to help but he couldn't risk exposing himself unnecessarily. If anything she was familiar with the tenants of the brotherhood.

"I asked you to retrieve the patient, not kill him," Garnier said as he came out, drawing both Selma and Altair's attention. "There, there. Everything will be all right. Give me your hand."

The patient refused to, screaming that Garnier not touch him. He sounded hysterical as he demanded not to be put through again what he had gone through. He looked like a crazy man.

"Cast out this fear. Else I cannot help you," Garnier countered looking hurt at the accusations implied.

"Help me? Like you helped the others?" The patient had a crazed look about him. He hadn't tried to escape but took the opportunity to make his point known. "You took their souls! I saw. I saw! But not mine. No. You'll not have mine. Never, never, never… not mine…"

The slap was loud in the silence of the crowd. Then Garnier spoke, "Take hold of yourself. Do you think this gives me pleasure? So you think I want to hurt you? But you leave me no choice…"

Selma watched Altair stiffen slightly as Garnier passed near the scholars where Altair was standing. She thought silently, _Bite it back my friend. Bite it back._

"Every kind word matched by the back of his hand," the crazed man retorted. "All lies and deception. He won't be content until all bow down before him."

It was an odd accusation and while it wasn't a good idea to listen to the words of a crazy man, Selma marked his words. She watched as he tried to escape but was grabbed and manhandled by the guards. They brought the struggling man to Garnier who regarded the patient coldly, "You should not have done that." Looking at the guards, Garnier ordered, "Return him to his quarters. I'll be along once I've tended the others."

"You can't keep me here. I'll escape again."

"No you won't. Break his legs," Garnier said with no hint of pity or mercy. "Both of them."

The crunch of bones and screams of pain caused Selma's lips to twitch in a grimace. She found herself remembering the day she had witnessed death and while hardly a comparison to what she was seeing now… she couldn't help but note the cruelties of man. Like she could see from Altair, she was filled with the desire to rush in and do something and namely to kill the man. From her experience, healers were to heal but this… this was wanton cruelty. The man was worse than the one assigned to be in charge of prisoners. What has war done to people?

Movement from Altair told Selma that he was on the move and that was her signal to find her own way into the place. He was using the monks to gain entrance so that way was barred to her. She had contemplated going up and going in as an Arbiter in pursuit of knowledge but that would make her an obvious suspect when the deed was done.

_You startled me Little Falcon. I would hate to see what would happen if it was a target you were after._

Her decision made, Selma touched her back to make sure her bow and quiver were secure as she walked to the nearest wall. She checked to make sure no one noticed as she began to scale the wall. There was always more than one way to get into a place.

* * *

Altair was disgusted with what was going on in the hospital. If the scene in the courtyard was a disturbance, this was obscene. He may have had some doubts from a couple of the patients who professed their thanks to de Napolouse for his healing them but the pledge of loyalty sickened them. _To inspire such loyalty would mean providing salvation for illness probably brought on by Garnier de Napolouse himself._

The other patients helped to deter his doubts. They cowered in fear and screamed at de Napolouse for him to leave them alone. It was a look of torture he saw. Some he saw were mindlessly wandering around. They only became agitated if someone came too close. But their faces were blank with no signs of intelligence or life. He had to put an end to this and looked around the fortress. It was no hospital; he did not get the sense of healing that came with such a place. It was like a prison.

One of the prisoners became agitated and struck one of the monks. It was enough to distract the guards allowing Altair to slip away and track de Napolosue. He needed to get close but not too close since he needed his target to be distracted enough not to fight back when he killed him. That would also bring the guards and that was something that he wanted to avoid if not entirely.

He followed the man, avoiding getting too close to the patients lest they alert de Napolouse. His time was running short when the target was nearing the end of the ward. He had to make his move before he lost the man. He was confident that he would get him though. He was a Master Assassin after all. He pushed forward but one patient took offense at him and struck him in the shoulder and hard. He ignored it though and pushed forward, his target in sight.

Altair came up behind de Napolouse and triggered his hidden blade in a smooth motion. With a quick motion he drove it into the man's back in the kill spot and muffled the cry of the now dying man. Lowering him to the floor he spoke softly, "Let go your burden."

De Napolouse looked up at his killer as if he were an oddity but with no fear that his end was near. "Ah I rest now, yes?" He looked upwards at the ceiling and coincidentally at the chandelier that was providing light. "The endless dream calls to me. But before I close my eyes I must know… What will become of my children?"

Altair looked down at the dying man, a bit perturbed at the response. He couldn't keep the distaste out of his, "You mean the people made to suffer your cruel experiments? They'll be free now to return to their homes." He made the last part sound like a firm declaration and it was considering what he had seen.

De Napolouse laughed but weakly, "Homes? What homes? The sewers? The brothels? The prisons that we dragged them from?"

"You took these people against their will," Altair retorted, remembering the cargo that had been liberated the night before.

"Yes. What little will there was for them to have." De Napolouse peered at Altair and asked, "Are you really so naïve? Do you appease a crying child simply because he wails? You would have to answer for the consequences."

"These are not children. But full grown men and women."

"In body perhaps. But not in mind. The very damage I sought to repair but without the artifact you stole from us… my progress has been slowed." He paused and then added to Altair's confusion, "There are herbs… mixtures and extracts. My guards are proof of this. They were madmen before I found them and freed them from the prisons of their minds and with my death… madmen they will become again…"

"And you truly believe you were helping them?"

"It's not what I believe… It's what I know."

Altair mulled over it as he muttered, "Death be not unkind." He didn't have much time since he heard a low moan. Looking up, he caught a fist in his face from a patient bemoaning the death of de Napolouse. It left him stunned but it was enough to call the attention of the monks who began shouting and that brought the guards.

Springing to his feet, Altair charged towards a door that he hoped would lead out to the courtyard. His way ended up being barred by guards coming at him with their swords drawn. Altair countered by dodging the charge and watched as they collided with the patients that were behind him. He smirked as he watched the patients start to beat on the guards but it didn't help him since something hard and heavy hit him across the back of his shoulders and brought him to his knees. It was about as humiliating as when Robert de Sable managed to catch him in the temple.

It was a wicked sounding chuckle pulled Altair's attention as his arms were pulled into a restraining form by two more guards. A sword was pointed at his throat and he could see that the patients had been shuffled aside so there was no interference. He struggled but got a gauntleted fist to the stomach making him buckle and he felt the cold tip of the sword on his throat. He looked up to see the guard smirking at him and saying, "You will pay with your life assass…"

The last word never came out. Altair blinked at the jerking motion the guard made. The body dropped to the ground and fell forward to reveal the shaft of an arrow protruding from the back. He blinked again and tried to struggle to get free but he was held fast while orders were being given and the others were looking around for the direction the arrow came. He almost didn't hear the whizz of two more arrows flying but he did feel the grip from the guards slacken and shook himself free.

More arrows rained down in quick succession almost insuring that he made it to the door to the courtyard. The guards that didn't get hit were trying to find cover and calling for reinforcements and it allowed Altair to slip by. He did managed to steal a glimpse and saw a dark shape run across the rafters and thought he caught a glimpse of grey. _An Arbiter? Here?_

There was no time to dwell on that since whoever it was clearly bought him escape and Altair wasn't going to waste it. More guards were coming with blades drawn as he barreled through and into the courtyard. He ended up coming face to face with the guard that broke the patient's legs and was carrying a huge broadsword.

Altair drew his own sword and it looked like his was a tiny stick compared to the broadsword. Still he was prepared to defend himself and sprang away when the guard charged at him with a powerful swing of the broadsword. That kind of blade made for powerful swings but it left the defenses of the wielder significantly challenged. It was the kind of weakness that Altair was going to exploit as he dodged the blows. Speed was his ally in this case. He timed it to get his opening but suffered a clout across his ribs by a gauntleted fist in the process. In the end he managed to cut across the throat of the guard and the man was down for good.

Altair disappeared into the crowds before more showed up and only slowed when he judged he was a sufficient distance away to blend in. He was a nameless face in the crowd once again as he made his way to the Bureau to report that the deed was done. Only then did he allow his thoughts to wander and mull through what de Napolouse said and about what he had witnessed in the hospital fort. It was the latter that occupied his thoughts chiefly until he left Acre a day later.

Kifah was snorting at him again as he turned her head towards Masyaf. He assumed that it was because he was once again not letting her have her head. "Kifah," he soothed, "It's too hot for a run."

That didn't do much. Kifah stomped her feet impatiently in response and gave a slight buck. True she wanted to run but that was not what had her eager. She picked up something that was following them. She recognized the scent and wanted to go towards it. It had Altair frown at her behavior and had him glance around but he couldn't pick up on anything unusual. Still it wouldn't hurt to be alert. As an Assassin that was as natural as breathing. He still was concerned that Al Mualim sent someone to shadow him needlessly and the fact that he had yet to see them was worrisome and he nudged Kifah to move a little faster.

Nothing much happened the first night and he managed to avoid trouble. The morning thought brought him into contact with a caravan that was passing through on the way in the general direction of Masyaf. The leader though said that they were heading towards Al-Nasrah on their way to trade with the merchants of the citadel.

Altair took the information in quietly while his mannerisms seemed brusque. He was tempted to follow them and delay for just a moment in order to give in to the impulse of wanting to see his little falcon again. Seeing the Arbiter in Acre had him wanting to know if she was faring well and he would accept it if she was married though the idea of it sounded distasteful and produced a pang in his heart. The least he could do was make sure that if there was a husband he was worthy of her though there was little chance he was… whoever it was. So he stuck with the caravan but was not quite part of it and listened to the various conversations as he had learned to do as a novice.

Nightfall came and he was still with the caravan but not a part of it. His place to sleep was far enough away to be left alone but close enough to get information and it was a short distance to a more secluded watering hole. It was there that he was filling his canteen with his back to the cliff that bordered that side of the watering hole. As he was filling it he happened to glance in the pool and noticed a shadowy figure in the reflection indicating that he was being watched. He chose to not let on that he knew he was being watched and filled his remaining water bags and left with the goal of doubling back.

He found his little spy by the water's edge looking around from the same vantage point that he thought he saw them at. He grinned thinking that this game was going to go his way and pounced. With the grace of his namesake, he flew forwards and landed on the back of the one that was following him with every intention on capturing, then interrogating and eventually or maybe killing whoever it was. If it was a fellow brother, he wouldn't do it. He didn't expect what happened when he pounced.

His target managed to counter by grabbing his arms when he got to a standing position. Altair yanked and ended up throwing his target across the desert sands watching as his opponent rolled to their feet to expect more while drawing their sword. Altair leapt at the chance and drew his own blade and sprung forward and for a moment the sounds of metal filled the night. The dance stirred up the dirt creating a cloud to add to the intensity of the battle.

Altair was determined to win this and fought hard with every trick he knew. The swings were calculated and he could tell that his opponent was a worthy opponent. This was definitely someone to bring back to Al Mualim and would restore what he lost. He focused as he realized he was being pushed back to the cliff and he was almost bent over backwards against a boulder. When his opponent charged, he raised his boot and planted a firm push more than kick to the chest but it was enough to give him the room he needed. His hood fell off in the process but he didn't care; he wanted to win.

He managed to knock his opponent's blade away having them at his mercy. His lip twitched in a smirk as he held his blade out to indicate his victory. He thrust forward expecting the dodge but not the grip to his wrist of his sword arm. Out came a knife and his other hand became occupied with holding it away from his body. It began a game of tug-o-war as they struggled to gain an edge and ended up falling to the ground with a dull thud.

The fall had Altair end up on top and he managed to push back the hand with the knife. He manipulated his fingers to apply pressure to the wrist. He shifted his body to prevent struggling. He almost had them and the knife dropped with a dull thud along with a grunt that had him blink in surprise. He adjusted his position to pull the hood off his opponent and got a look full on at a very familiar face and his grip loosened. It was a mistake.

The blow to his manhood was unexpected and Altair's grip slackened as he doubled over allowing his opponent to wriggle out from underneath and get to their feet to run. There was no way that he was going to let them go and managed to get to his feet and give chase. He managed to catch up despite the pain and lunged forward, tackling them and pinning their arms to their body, landing in the sand with a thud. He flipped the body over while they struggled and demanded, "Stop, little falcon."

The struggling stopped and they stared at each other.

* * *

**A/N:** Okay here it is, the official reunion of Altair and Selma. Seems like they are having a little bit of fun now. Stay tuned for more Shades of Grey...


End file.
